Nights with the Doctor
by CrysWimmer
Summary: This is my idea of what might have happened on some of the many nights that the Doctor spent with River Song throughout their relationship. I have made some significant changes since the initial posting in November to correct timeline errors and various typos. I hope to begin posting the remaining chapters as I have them edited. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!
1. Prologue: A Glance into the Future

_A Glance into the Future_ – Prologue

The Doctor held the blue diary carefully, even gingerly. She had told him that it contained his future – spoilers, she had said – and that his own rules dictated that he must not read it. It made sense. He knew more than most what a mess it made of time when a time line was altered, but for the first time he was truly tempted.

He had watched her die to save him. He had managed to at least store her consciousness within the library. The adventure should be over. It was time for him to move on, not to dwell on someone left behind. He should have left the book and screwdriver sitting on the railing as he had intended to do. He had actually walked away from them, and then he had returned. Donna, in a rare moment of insight, had not questioned him. She had been absorbed in her own thoughts, and he was grateful. He didn't want to explain to Donna what he did not understand for himself.

He wanted to know who River Song was. He wanted to know who she was _to him_. He knew that he was likely to find out in the course of time, but it might be a very long time. He normally counted his life in decades, rather than years. For some reason, waiting decades to learn who she was seemed untenable. Granted, he wasn't particularly used to waiting. Having a time machine at his disposal had spoiled him.

The TARDIS engines hummed softly around him as he leaned against the console and passed the book from one hand to the other and back again, unopened. Could he hazard a glance? After all, she was – apparently – his wife. His wife? She had been human. He couldn't even imagine a circumstance in which he would marry a human; not really. But, he had told her his name. She had said it with perfect inflection, so _he_ must have told her. It was not a name that could be written in any language currently written, because it existed only in a dead language. What was more, he had never spoken his name to anyone, not even to Rose.

He carefully opened the blue cover of the book. It was worn, and the leather was cracking. The pages were yellowed and wrinkled, a high-quality paper that had nonetheless broken down over time. The scrawl was impatient, nearly scribbled, as though the writer had dedicated little time to handwriting. He smiled slightly. Even knowing so little about her, he imagined that she rarely slowed down enough to write in the little book. And yet the book was filled with tiny writing, from one cover nearly to the other.

He supposed he should start at the beginning. There was less chance of running into something significant if he stayed away from the end of the book. She had said she asked for his help with some regularity – according to what she had told him – so it was likely that her time line would cross his in multiple locations. She had asked him about events they had shared, events he knew nothing of, and yet her expression had been expectant. She had believed he would know what she was referring to. Yes, he would have to start at the beginning.

The first page held a sketch of a man with essentially short hair waving longer to flop over one eye. Dressed in a suit with a bow-tie, the man's most obvious feature was his chin. The second thing that jumped right out, if he could pardon the irony of the phrase, was the man's prominent nose. In all, he was a funny looking man, although not offensive. There was a glint of mischief in the man's eyes, sparkling past the carefully yet inexpertly drawn face and clothing. Briefly, the doctor wondered if he should be jealous of the man, and then decided against it. He didn't know this woman, not really. She could draw whomever she wished. There were many pages after that where she wrote about her studies – an archeology degree, for heaven's sake – and about her desire to look for him. He momentarily wondered how she had met him, and why she had held such a fascination for him.

He read a few lines at the top of the page, complaining about the "sisters." She had apparently been raised in a convent, given the context clues in her writings. He had to smile as he considered her spirited personality a midst a group of pious sisters. He saw a few references to himself, but mostly with regards to her desire to look for him. She didn't know him then any more than he knew her now, at least not at this point of her life.

Carefully, he turned the page and met more of her cramped, tiny scrawl. She had crammed an amazing number of words onto the page. He stopped skimming and started reading at the first direct reference he found to himself.

 _The Doctor said I should use this journal to write everything down. It was one of the rules, and I suppose I should follow them. Aside from being expected of a wife, following the rules may just prevent another paradox like the insanity we just left behind. In any case, it's a small price to pay for the moments of escape from Stormcage. I've held onto this book for years, carried it with me because it had been his gift, so I may as well use it. Who knows, I may publish it someday and make a fortune. Stranger things have happened._

 _Tonight we made a visit to the stars. We weren't among them, but beneath them. It was absolutely wonderful. He took me to Caldorin Beta on the outskirts of some obscure little galaxy. The year was 2360, and he had all these plans to take a lift to the top of a tree somewhere on a mountain in the middle of sea in order to see stars as bright as daylight. Things didn't go exactly as he had planned, but then they rarely do when I'm around him. The line for the lift was ages long, and we never did manage to get around to waiting in it. We walked first around the based of the tree, and then wandered out into a tiny path that led to a small clearing with deep green grass. We sat, and we talked, and we laughed together. It was brilliant._

 _The plan was to wait until nearly midnight and then flash the psychic paper to nip past the line. But as the sun set and the stars came out, we instead lay back on the grass and watched the light show. It was absolutely amazing! We lay beneath the brightest cascade of falling stars I have ever seen. He told me to wish on them, but we both knew it was nonsense. My only wish was to be out of here, and to be with him. So I closed my eyes and wished I never had to come back here. Of course I do... twelve thousand consecutive life terms and all that... but it was my wish. The air was so clear, and the sky was unbelievably bright. He had told me I could read by it, but I preferred to lay beside him, my hand in his, and feel the grass beneath us. The whole universe seemed to stand still, just for that moments._

 _He kissed my hand. How old fashioned he was. He kissed my hand and then held it against his cheek as we lay beneath the brightest stars in the universe. As first dates go, it was hard to beat. I don't even know how long we were there. It felt like it was a moment, but the sun was rising a we returned to the TARDIS, so it must have been hours. I don't even know how long he has had it planned. I do know that he is little more comfortable with me than I am with him. That is somewhat unnerving at times, but I suppose I will get used to it. I know him, and I love him so much, and yet there is so much more for me to learn. What's more, I simply cannot wait until he finally knows me._

The Doctor smiled as he finished the page, and with some difficulty he closed the book. He had learned too much already. He had a glimpse into his future – her past – and he recognized her. Well, not really her, but certainly her spirit. She had known his name, and that was a knowledge that had been lost in the centuries since his world had been destroyed. During a Galifreyan marriage ceremony, souls were shared. A name was the essence of the soul, and it was shared at that time, given as one gave himself into the love and keeping of a wife. That name was rarely spoken, and never in company. It was sacred between a couple, and held worlds of power. If he had shared his name, given her that piece of his past, she was a part of him. Or, she would be. He didn't need to see any more than that to understand he was treading a fine and dangerous line. He knew the consequences, and he could not risk it.

He would read the book again at some point. He would keep it with him, and when he met River again – as he was certain he would – he would glance at it then. If he had it now, then it followed that her ending was his beginning, at least in a general sense. Time was more of a ball than a line, with tendrils wrapping around into itself, overlapping, and folding back upon themselves. But it was a start, and time travelers shared a general sense of continuity... usually. He would keep the book, and he would read a little more when he knew a little more, when he felt it was safe.

He crossed the control room and carefully walked up the stairs and down the corridor. When he came to the wardrobe, he entered and looked around. The TARDIS had formed cubicles of a sort for storage, and while most of this things were tossed about, there were a few things he kept more carefully. He crossed the room and reached to a higher shelf, lifting down one of several heavy woolen scarves. It was perhaps his longest, and had wound and trailed when he had worn it, but at the time it had seemed a good idea. It had also been useful at times, so much so that when he had once unraveled through the TARDIS to save himself, he had found a darling woman to re-knit it for him. Still, it was impractical now. Although he had once run through the universe with wool trailing behind him, the scarf would have been ludicrous with a leather jacket or a pinstriped suit. Nonetheless, it was one of his favorite keepsakes, reminding him of adventures and friendships, and yes... Sarah Jane.

With care, he placed the diary within the folds of the scarf and returned it to the shelf. He stood a moment longer, just looking at the folds of beige and green and brown. So many memories over his lifetime, and yet for the first time he was not eager to move on. Much as he had when he had lost Rose, he felt... bereft. He felt as though something wonderful had been lost, before he had even found it. He placed his hand on the corridor wall, feeling the TARDIS pulse vaguely beneath his palm to reassure himself. This too would pass, and he would go on. He would be fine. He was always... fine.


	2. Chapter 1 - The Hanging Gardens

_The Hanging Gardens_ – Chapter 1

He had never wanted to change. Most of the time, regeneration was simply a matter of necessity and he took it with aplomb. This time had been different. Maybe it was all that he had been leaving behind – Rose, and Martha, and Donna, and even Wilfred – or maybe he was just tired of having to leave everything, every time. It was the life of a Time Lord, the leaving, and he normally managed the transition by looking to his future rather than back at his past. It simply was, because he didn't dare change his own timeline. But this was one of the few times he had truly regretted leaving behind who he had been.

He had simply felt hollow, from the time he had been injured beyond life, right up until the moment he had regenerated. He supposed what had changed his mind and given him the energy to keep going was looking into the wide, trusting eyes of Amelia Pond. From the moment he had met her, she had become a part of him. He had wanted to give her the world that had been taken from her by the eccentricities of the universe. He had wanted to show her the world, and he had begun to do so. Amy had become a vital part of him, and he loved having adventures with her. He even enjoyed bringing Rory along, and the way she lit up when he was around. He wondered how long it would be before Amy noticed.

So far, he and Amy had battled aliens on Earth and discovered Monsters on space stations. They had battled Daleks and avoided Weeping Angels. He tried not to think of how close he had come to losing her to those Angels. He tried not to think of her blind, and helpless, and yet trusting him even when he didn't trust himself. If it hadn't been for River...

River Song. Now that was a strange and erratic thought. She at once fascinated him and terrified him. He knew very well who and what she would someday be to him, but for now she was an imposition and a puzzle. She made him nervous, because he knew he was looking at his future. He saw things in her that he didn't understand, and he was still reluctant to trust her. Apparently at some point he would, but that point was not today, not entirely.

No, today he was less than trusting. He had learned that she was in prison for murder, and that simply didn't engender faith. He abhorred killing in any form, and even when it was unavoidable he resented it. It also didn't mesh with the sacrifice she had made in the Library. A woman willing to sacrifice herself for four thousand people – and for him – didn't seem like the type of person to kill indiscriminately. Still, he couldn't deny that she intrigued him. He had to wonder if he would be as affected if he hadn't already met her, hadn't seen her greatest sacrifice. Who was she to him? Wife, apparently, but what else? Companion? Confidant? He had met her for the first time in the library, but when would she meet him for the first time? His mind was filled with questions that she hadn't begun to answer on the beach.

But she had saved Amy. Granted, she had been smug about it to the point of annoyance, but she had done it. She had stayed right with him, and she had worked at that damned teleporter until she made it work. She had been the one to rescue Amy – not him – and she hadn't gloated as much as he might have expected. In fact, she had seemed as relieved to get Amy to safety as he had been. That was another point of curiosity... she had an amazing affinity with Amy. None of it made any sense to him, and he could not abide that level of a mystery.

It occurred to him that perhaps, just perhaps he needed to give her another chance. Perhaps she had a good reason for a murder necessitating imprisonment at Stormcage. Perhaps there were... extenuating circumstances. He knew more than most that even the most peaceful person could be driven to war. If he had been placed on trial for every murder he had committed, even his nearly eternal lifetime could not begin to address the number of years that a tribunal would insist on. Still, River didn't seem particularly peaceful. She was... intriguing. She was something. He wanted so much to understand what.

Maybe if he met her on his terms, instead of waiting for hers, he could get a better grasp on things. She certainly already knew him, and it wasn't as though he didn't know when and where to find her. She was in prison, after all. Where could she go? And if she was at Stormcage, she was one of a very few, very high-security prisoners. It would only be so hard to get to her.

It took a few moments for the TARDIS to pull up the information he needed. He often searched for people through time and space so this was little different, but it still surprised him how quickly and easily the TARDIS had located both her records – he avoided looking at the sealed documents on principle – and her location. He would just hop over to Stormcage cell sixty-five, borrow River for a bit, and see what he could piece together. He didn't want to alter the future, but he did want to fill in some of the the blanks. It made him decidedly uncomfortable that she knew so much more about him than he knew about her.

He set the controls for Stormcage, a week into the future, thinking that she would likely be bored enough to be willing to talk. He would provide a diversion. He might even enjoy himself a bit. Records didn't indicate a pardon in the current time, so he set course for a friendly visit.

Navigating inside Stormcage was not difficult. As secure as the prison was, guarded from teleports and transports, the technology of the TARDIS far surpassed their firewalls and fail-safes. A quick check of historical documentation had given a complete map of the prison – it would eventually become a tourist site long after it's closure – and he landed the TARDIS just outside her cell door.

When he opened the door, he found her standing at her cell door with a generous smile on her face. "Hello, Sweetie," she said simply. "Where are we going tonight?"

There was no surprise in her. "We've done this before?" he asked her, feeling a prickle along the back of his neck.

She frowned slightly, then her expression cleared. "Must be an early you," she told him. "And yes, you visit often."

"How often?" he wondered aloud.

"Often enough," she replied, caution creeping into her voice. "You'll have me back a moment after we leave," she told him. "Where are we going?" Her eyes were alight with excitement.

"Where do we usually go?"

"Spoilers," she warned him. "Do you want to choose, or should I?"

He looked at her a moment, then shook his head. The sonic screwdriver made quick work of the cage door, and she stepped out and walked to the TARDIS without looking back. Shaking his head again, he followed her into his ship.

It was with more than a little surprise that he realized she was very adeptly setting coordinates into his TARDIS. What shocked him more was that his ship was tolerating it. She didn't like to be fiddled with, his girl. She didn't always take orders from him, and he couldn't fathom why she accepted this so easily. He had noted it before – on the way to the Byzantium – but he hadn't understood it. He looked over her shoulder, did a few mental calculations, and realized she was taking them to Earth's hanging gardens of Babylon.

"Iraq?" he asked.

"Not at the time," she corrected. "Nineveh for a while, and at the time we're going it was Assyria. You promised me all the ancient wonders, Doctor. Something about soothing the archaeologist in me."

She eased the TARDIS into motion, soundless and smooth. If he hadn't been looking at the controls, he wouldn't have believed they were moving. How could she be better at this than he was? How could his TARDIS tolerate this? He placed a hand on her console and felt his ship's peace, and almost humor, with his confusion.

"How can you fly her?" The question slipped from him, even as he knew he shouldn't ask. He couldn't know too much about the future without compromising it.

" You taught me some," River said softly, making a minute adjustment. " She taught me more," she added with a shrug. She watched him for a moment, then sighed. "I don't know how much to tell you. In your future, you know a great deal from this past. It's all so intertwined. I suppose I should just relax and let things fall as they may. If I do change my present, I'll never know it. The time line will just cease to exist."

"As a time traveler, you might remember more than you think."

"But you can't miss what you've never had. Still, I don't really want to take the chance." She made an adjustment on the console. "But what if not answering _is_ the change, and answering was the right thing? How do you do this?" She gave a gentle laugh. "I'm developing a bit more respect for you. I've always been the young one."

"I try to stay out of my own time line," he admitted. "It's a good deal safer that way. You seem to be my exception to that. He looked at her for a moment, and then stamped his foot as his mood shifted rapidly from confusion to frustration. "I don't know how to do this, either!" His voice had risen with every word. "You drop into my life, and I feel things... and I know things... and I don't know enough. I don't even know what I should try to find out! Do you have any idea how frustrating this is?"

"Oh, yes I do," she said softly, a gentle smile on her face. "And yelling about it won't make it any easier. I'd forgotten about the temper tantrums," she mused almost absently. "Thankfully you develop a little bit of control as you get older."

The irritation in his face faded as he closed his eyes. "I hate that you know that. I hate that you know me better than I know myself. And the TARDIS... she only listens to me! How am I supposed to deal with this?"

"You once told me to just live it," she told him, her voice very soft. "I suppose I should tell you the same. Let it be, and let it all play out on its own."

"That doesn't sound like me."

"It isn't. Not yet. Give it time."

"I don't suppose I have a choice," he complained. "Taking this as it comes, then. You get to lead."

"Lucky me," she said with a smile. "Well, let's go for a walk, Sweetie."

"As soon as we land," he agreed, still wishing he was in the lead.

That widened her smile. "We've already landed," she told him. "Assyrian Empire, 605 B.C. We're outside the city, so we should be able to see the gardens without running into anyone problematic. We probably should change, though. You still have robes in the wardrobe, yes? Or are you going to rely on the perception filter?"

"How did you...? Never mind. Yes, we can change."

She changed first into a simple robe of a course material, very dated and slightly dirty. When she was out of the dressing room, he grabbed a similar robe to throw over his clothes. He didn't remember when or where he had picked the robes up, but certainly sometime in his travels. He had been through most of ancient Egypt and Rome at one point or another. Human history fascinated him, and he was intrigued and amazed by the colorful past that Earth held. Given that, were he not a Time Lord, he might considered archeology himself. Perhaps. But then, if he hadn't been a Time Lord, he never would have encountered the humanity of Earth in the first place.

She had landed the TARDIS in a series of caves outside the city proper. It was concealed enough that it wouldn't be conspicuous to travelers. As he exited, he noted the dry, desert terrain. Walls of stone surrounded him, gray and dismal. They hiked down from the hills and found the primary road into the city. They wouldn't be going all the way in, and he hoped they didn't run into any traffic. Normally he loved interacting with the indigenous life, but for now he just wanted to make sense of the mystery.

"Why did you become an archaeologist? he asked her.

She shrugged as she slid her arm through his, walking beside him. "Many reasons," she admitted. "I've always loved the past. My own is... questionable. I love to discover significant events, learn about fascinating people. There are other reasons as well, but those are what I'll admit to for now." They walked a bit more before she told him, "I answered your question, so it's my turn. What is your last memory of me?"

He gave her a searching look. "Why?"

"Because I need to know where you are in time. We never meet in the right order, Doctor. If I know where you've come from, I can keep better track of what I can say."

"We just left the Byzantium," he said.

"Early days, indeed," she said brightly. "I'll keep it in mind."

"It was only a week ago," he told her.

"Galifreyan time; real time," she agreed. She paused a moment, clearly deliberating on what she would say next. "Prison time... Let's just say that I don't spend a great deal of my time there. I keep a calendar so that I won't lose track, but time is less... concrete to me."

"So how long has it been?" he asked. "Your time?"

"Spoilers," she said firmly. "Now, why have you come to get me?"

"Consider it a... need to know you. It's not something I can explain, and I'll have you know that I'm usually very loquacious."

"Oh, don't I know it," she told him, and her soft laugh was easy, comfortable. "You know, I sometimes think our lives would be easier if we just lived them in a straight line, without all the back and forth. I know they wouldn't be as interesting, but it would at least be less confusing. I'm spending all this time worried about what to say and what not to say, and I'm sure you have the same difficulty in the future."

They walked along together, her left arm through his right, for a long time. He didn't feel the need to speak, even though he had so many more questions than answers. Her presence soothed him, even as it energized him. They walked along for a bit in silence, then stepped out onto a small rise.

"Oh..." Her voice was hushed and reverent.

He followed her gaze to the lush greenery which climbed the hillside before them. A midst the endless beige of the desert, the deep green was startling, as were the touches of red and yellow and purple. There were trees and flowers so close together that they meshed into a multicolored rainbow sprinkled through the multiple green shades. He knew she could never have seen anything like it, not even in the history books she so enjoyed.

"It's times like this I understand why you love it here," she breathed.

"Here?" Had he brought her here... would he bring her here?

"Earth," she replied. "A people who could imagine this, and then create it, when they had so little to work with. They engineered aqueducts to bring water, and they gathered the plants from all over the continent." She turned to face him, placing her hands on his chest as she looked in his eyes. "No wonder you care so much for them. Given their tendency towards war and self-destruction, I didn't understand at first. But the more you show me, the more I comprehend."

"You keep saying 'they'. You're one of them, aren't you? Human?"

"I'm not... born of Earth," she admitted. "Not born _on_ Earth."

"Your parents?" he asked.

"From Earth," she told him agreeably. "They... traveled. That's all I can say about them."

He accepted that; knowing he was treading a fine line. "What is your favorite place in space or time?" he asked.

"Wherever I am," she said. "Life is to be lived in the present. The past and the future are lovely places to visit as well, but one can't live there. The past is for regrets, and the future is for hope."

"How did you get so wise?" he asked, thinking that what she was saying mirrored his own thoughts.

She smiled again, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. "You taught me."

He understood too well what she was saying. For a long time, they said no more. Presence seemed to be more than words with them. It was not something he was familiar with. His companions were usually talkative, especially when they first started to travel with him. It led him to believe that he had traveled with River Song long before in her time, and much later in his own time line.

They walked for hours through the desert surrounding the gardens, and finally walked back towards the TARDIS. They talked of everything except their joint past and future. They discussed places, debated significant points of history with his views as a Time Lord and her often opposing views as an archaeologist. At times they argued and at other times they agreed so strongly that he wondered just how many years she must have known him. She listened avidly as he spoke of Galifrey – something he never felt comfortable doing – memories he had not acknowledged to any of his companions, no matter now often he had been asked – and he felt that it was completely natural. Over time, the tension he had initially felt at coming to see her out of time was eliminated as the peace of getting to know a kindred spirit was realized.

They finally had to board the TARDIS, and he was faced with setting coordinates. He was strangely reluctant to return her so soon to Stormcage. Partly his reluctance was purely enjoying her company, and the rest was the deep belief that she didn't belong in prison. She might be opinionated and sassy, perhaps even a bit self-serving, but she wasn't a criminal. He would have bet his life on it. In addition, she had demonstrated unwavering loyalty to him on the occasions he had met her, and the one thing a villain could never do was trust him.

"What's wrong?" she asked as he stood and stared at the console, trying to decide what he wanted to do.

"Why don't I want to put you back behind bars?" he asked softly.

She gave him a smile that was heartbreaking. "Oh, Sweetie, someday you'll have the answer to that. But telling you tonight would break every rule, and as much as I want to do it, I know better. You'd never forgive me."

"What I think is important to you?" he asked, his voice still quiet.

"It's everything to me," she admitted. "And someday, believe it or not, what I say will matter to you as well."

River trailed a hand over the TARDIS console as she moved to stand several feet away, right in front of the controls that were where he would have to make adjustments as soon as he began their trip. He was reminded again that she knew his ship, and cared for her. The TARDIS was a living organism, but most beings couldn't understand this. Even Rose hadn't fully understood the capabilities of his ship, and she had briefly shared her soul. Donna had probably understood for a brief time, but she would never remember. River seemed to comprehend it on a visceral level, and she demonstrated the understanding in the way she spoke to the TARDIS, touched her controls, kept her hands in place long after the controls were set as though she just enjoyed the contact. It was something he could never teach, and yet River possessed.

It purely fascinated him.

Giving in to the inevitable, he moved along side her and nudged her out of the way to set coordinates to the Stormcage Confinement Facility, then dematerialized his TARDIS. Before he could shift to input secondary instructions, River was already making adjustments, smoothing out their flight, and using those damned blue stabilizers which he rarely bothered with. The TARDIS was designed for flight by six or more Time Lords, and in learning to fly it himself he had eliminated less essential controls. Having River to assist made the trip much more pleasant, smoother and easier. He couldn't help but enjoy it. He would never admit that – not in a thousand lifetimes – but he did enjoy it.

As they neared their destination, she made a couple more adjustments and they stilled. He looked over at her curiously.

"I just want a minute," she requested.

"For what?" he asked, anticipating a request he would not be willing to give.

"Just..." She looked away for a moment, and then walked over to him. With her eyes uncharacteristically downcast, she slipped her arms around his body and put her head on his shoulder, holding him gently.

He stood for a moment with his arms out slightly, too surprised to react. She hadn't seemed the type to be tender. Then again, the more he got to know her, the less he realized she was as she had first appeared. When he finally realized that she wasn't doing anything else, that she simply wanted or needed a hug, he gently put his arms around her.

They stood for several minutes in one another's arms, and then she let go. Her eyes were a bit damp, but she gave him a steady smile and thankfully no tears fell.

"Thank you," she said simply.

"My pleasure," he answered, and was slightly surprised to realize how much he meant that. He made another adjustment to the panel, and heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS landing. "You're back," he told her.

"Thank you for the lovely evening," she told him. "I had a wonderful time."

"I'm glad."

"And I'll see you next time," she told him, reaching up to kiss him softly on the cheek.

He smiled and turned to watch her leave the TARDIS, and he was shocked at how much he wanted to go after her, to bring her back, and to keep her with him. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything. It was in his nature. But he didn't do it, because he knew the absolute and painful truth.

A little knowledge could be a good thing, but too much would be dangerous.


	3. Chapter 2 - Everybody Hurts

_Everybody Hurts_ – Chapter 2

Amy and Rory were sleeping, and he was very bored. He considered resting, but he honestly didn't need to at the moment. He was bored – just bored – and wanted somebody's company. His mind raced as he debated whether or not he really wanted to do this. Every foray into his own personal future carried risks. Tonight, he was just bored enough to be willing to risk it. A few taps to the console, a nudge to his best girl, and they were on their way.

The TARDIS came to rest outside cell sixty-five of Stormcage. He took a deep breath, tried to tell himself why this _wasn't_ the most absurd idea he'd had in recent memory. He wasn't terribly successful. Giving up, he headed towards the door and pulled it open.

"Hello, Sweetie," River said with a wave. She was standing at the door to her cell and looking at him expectantly. He expelled a long breath before walking over to that door and leaning against it.

"I was just wondering if you... had any plans tonight?" he asked as casually as he could manage. It didn't ring true to him, but he continued regardless.

Her laugh was soft and sexy. "I certainly do now," she told him.

"Well, then, maybe we could drop by the Aresian sector, and possibly... go for a walk?

"Hmm... sounds a little quiet. How about the Telohran Belt and we do a little hiking? I could use some exercise."

He gave her a grin. "We can do that," he decided.

She grinned. "Sonic me," she requested, gesturing to the door as she walked back to her bunk and rummaged around for her jacket and something else. By the time she returned to the cage door, he had unlocked it and swung it open. She walked through, bumped him with one hip as she walked by, and strode straight up into the TARDIS without another word.

As he followed her inside, she was tossing her jacket on the control console and flipping open her little blue journal. Before he could take his place at the controls, she was looking up at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked.

She actually rolled her eyes. "When are we?" she asked. "I need a reference point. And because you didn't ask first, I'm going to guess that we're early again. Yes?"

He gave a nod.

"Asgard?" she asked.

He nodded again.

"How about the Byzantium?"

"Babylon," he told her. "The last visit was Babylon."

"Oh, I did enjoy that," she told him with a smile. "Still, I'm in the mood for a little more movement. How about you?"

"I'd enjoy that, too," he told her.

She gave him another of her hip bumps to clear space in front of the TARDIS controls. While she navigated – and it was a truly unique feeling to let someone else do the flying – he headed for the wardrobe to find more appropriate footwear. She was dressed in typical prison garb, including her hiking boots. He finally settled on the red trainers he had worn for so long. They weren't designed for hiking, but they were comfortable and he would at least be able to keep up with her. By the time he had them on and returned to the control room, River had them landed and was moving towards the door.

"I chose a lovely, warm day," she was telling him, her excitement contagious. "Well, warm for this planet, anyway. I can't wait to get into the fresh air."

"Lead on," he told her, uncharacteristically willing to let her guide him. Honestly, he thought it had more to do with her enthusiasm than anything else. They hiked in silence for nearly a quarter of a mile, and he took time to watch – okay, _admire_ – the lovely sway of her... hips. She chatted on, and he simply listened without entirely registering the words. He looked up more intently when her eyes met his.

"You're too quiet," she was saying over her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," he said simply. "You're doing well enough for both of us."

She gave a small laugh, but she slowed down. "I am," she admitted. "The truth is, I mouthed off one time too many this week, and one of the wardens took personal offense. I've spent three days in solitary containment, with nobody to talk to but myself and no room to move around. I'd only been back in my room about an hour when you dropped in. I really need to move."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you annoyed the warden," he suggested.

"The warden is a brainless machine," she complained. "And he has absolutely no sense of humor."

"Maybe you shouldn't have killed anyone," he returned with a little more sarcasm than he intend. Truthfully, it bothered him greatly that she had admitted to being a murderer. It didn't match with what he had seen of her, the selfless actions she had witnessed on more than one occasion. He knew – he could sense – that she had a good heart. He didn't understand.

She became quiet. After a long moment, she said, "It was complicated, and it's not something I can discuss. I'm sorry."

He didn't push her, he just followed.

The planet they had landed on was thickly wooded with ancient trees. He couldn't hear many signs of animal life, but he knew they must be there. The ecosystem looked healthy and balanced, and the air was crisp and cool. If this was a warm day, he didn't want to be around when it was chilly. His Galifreyan constitution made him less susceptible to the cold than a human, but he could still feel it.

River set a pace that was difficult, but not punishing, and he was sure that she was keeping warm. He could see that she was in excellent shape, muscles moving smoothly and across her back and down her arms as she strode through the trees and on through the increasing incline. She quieted as as she walked, breathing deeply but not winded. He watched her shoulders gradually relax, the tension in her release, as the hike worked its magic on her. He stayed with her without difficulty, but he knew it was more his Gaifreyan physiology than actual practice. Then again, he did spend an inordinate amount of his time running.

The terrain became steeper, and River's pace slowed. Even more, he saw the tension that had been in her when he picked her up continue to drain and she finally managed to look truly relaxed. After another hour of hiking – during which time their only conversation had been simple comments about their trail, the vegetation, and the sky – she came to the top of a moderate overhang and stopped to look out over the rocks and trees below them.

He watched her gaze, and saw how she inspected the land. She was visibly cataloging the paths, trees, rocks, and waters below. She did so as though she had a very specific purpose for the information, and he wondered momentarily if she might be plotting something.

"Planning your escape?" he asked.

She looked back over her shoulder at him to smile. "If that had been the plan, I could have taken you out and run with the TARDIS."

"Would you?" He tried to keep the suspicion out of his voice, but she had been different this visit. He wasn't entirely sure he knew her even as much as he had thought.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No," she told him. "I could never hurt you, and I would never take the TARDIS. To begin with, I don't need to. A thousand times you would have given her to me if I had only asked. Not to mention that there are very few days I spend in Stormcage without you coming to get me." She turned and looked back over the land before adding, "It bothers me more than I like that you could even ask."

"I'm sorry," he felt compelled to say. "You just seem... different."

She nodded, and was quiet a little longer. The energy she had radiated when she'd left the TARDIS had dissipated, and she looked a little tired now. "Some days this is harder than others," she admitted.

"What is?"

"Knowing you when you don't know me." Her voice was low and soft, and she still wasn't looking at him.

He moved up next to her so that she would be easier to hear. "I'm trying to get to know you," he explained. "It's one of the reasons I'm so... restless. I want to learn."

She smiled sadly. "And you will," she allowed. "Doctor, I'm on the opposite end right now. I know you more than you know me. I have to guard every word, so sometimes it's easier not to speak. I have to consider every touch, so I keep my hands to myself. But you need to understand that I'm not used to censoring myself with you. I know that you're used to limiting what you share of yourself with others, but you know me more than anyone ever has... except that you don't yet."

"How do I make this easier?" he asked. "I can only move forward. I'm afraid to investigate your past too closely. I might learn something I shouldn't. But I can't stay away from you!" He turned and walked away a few steps, stomped one foot twice to release some of the frustrated energy, and then turned back to her. "What do I do?" he asked honestly.

"You're not doing anything wrong," she told him. "We're just not in the same place. At some point we'll meet in the middle, and it will be amazing. For now, I'm ahead and that's difficult. You'll have your time as well, I'm sure. I wish I had understood, when I was younger, how hard it is to be the one who knows more. I think I would have been kinder."

"I'll remember that," he told her, moving up to put an arm around her. "And I'll remember this." He put his other arm around her and pulled her into his chest, hugging her gently. Her arms encircled him tightly, her face pressing to his chest. He could feel her shaking, but he didn't say anything about it. He just held her.

They stood together while the breeze flowed around them and caused the trees to sway gently before them. After a few minutes, he just closed his eyes and absorbed her presence, realizing that the boredom he had felt earlier in the night had been eliminated. Even when she wasn't the best company, her presence felt right. He wondered how long it would take him to get used to this.

A long time later she gave him a final squeeze and stepped back from him. "It'll be a long walk back," she said. "If we take that trail down to the river, we can get some water before we start."

"That sounds like a good idea," he said as he stepped back.

This time he led the way as they skirted the rocks and eased down a fairly steep slope. She even put a hand on him for support a couple of times before they reached the river. Once there, they found a rock that was far enough out into the river to allow them to use it as they reached in to gather the water in their hands and drink. It was clean, fresh water. Ice cold as it descended from the mountains, it was absolutely perfect to refresh themselves before starting the walk back.

Once they'd had their fill, he led the way back up and around so that they could start on the path to the TARDIS. River was quiet again, but it wasn't the same tense introversion that she had demonstrated earlier, but rather an easy and comfortable silence when words were not needed. They had found an accord as they had looked out over the softly swaying trees and gently flowing river. He would stop trying so hard, and she would try to realize that he was doing the best he could. They hadn't said it in so many words, but the decision had been almost tangible.

The scuffle behind him took a moment to reach him. He turned quickly around and was just in time to see River's foot shoot out from beneath her. He realized that she must have stepped on a loose rock or something similar, but knowing what caused it could not get him close enough to her fast enough to do any good. He watched as she tried to catch herself, twisted painfully, and then slammed to the ground with a force that made him wince. He heard an audible pop followed by a fearfully loud crack when her head hit the ground.

It took him only an instant to reach her, but her eyes were already drifting closed when he did. "River!" he called. "Please, River..." He eased his fingers beneath her skull, careful not to move her while he checked for blood. "River, River, River..." he chanted softly as he stroked her face, patted gently. He didn't think her neck had been compromised, but he was very careful not to let her move as he tried to get her attention.

She was only out for a few minutes, maybe three or four, but it felt like much longer. When she started to come around, he held her head steady so that she couldn't do any further damage.

"Be still," he told her firmly. "I need to be sure you aren't hurt."

"I am hurt," she moaned. "My head is killing me."

"I'm sure. But right now I'm worried about your neck. Tell me if this hurts." He ran his fingers to the back of her head and down her spine. She didn't complain of any sore spots. When he worked his way up into her endless curls, she groaned. "How bad?" he asked.

"Bruised, at least," she admitted. "My head is throbbing."

"You were unconscious after you fell," he told her.

"Wonderful," she quipped. "Help me try to sit up."

"Are you sure"

"No. That's why I said I wanted to _try_."

He eased an arm beneath her shoulders and continued to support her head with the other hand. Not allowing her to make much effort, he eased her to a reclining and then a sitting position.

She moaned again, but she didn't get sick. He let her sit for a few minutes before he asked, "How are you doing?"

"Dizzy at first," she admitted. "Better now. We need to get headed back."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"I'm sure that it'll be dark, soon," she explained. "The daytime wildlife is nothing to speak of here, but when the sun goes down it gets dangerous. Almost everything here is nocturnal. I don't plan to be here when things start waking up."

He couldn't argue with that, so he put his arm around her and began to help her to stand. She wavered a little, swayed, and then steadied. After a long moment, she gave a careful nod and he supported her as she took her first step.

She didn't fall, but she did give a gasp. "What?"

"Knee," she muttered. "Must have twisted it when I fell."

He suddenly remembered the pop that had preceded the crack which had concerned him most. He had been so worried about a possible concussion that he hadn't considered the implications of the pop he'd heard.

He left her standing and knelt down to lift her pant leg. There was no obvious swelling, and no bruising. He had to hope that the damage would be minimal. "Nothing I can see," he told her. "Is it tender?" He probed gently with his fingers.

"There," she muttered as he gently pressed on the inside of her knee. Her face showed that she was clearly hurting.

"It's going to be a long walk home," he muttered.

"No," she corrected. "You go, bring the TARDIS, and come get me."

He considered that. "You were out cold for several minutes," he explained. "I can't leave you alone."

"Well then, it's definitely going to be a long walk," she agreed. "Get on this side."

He walked to her left, where she was gesturing. He put his right arm around her as she put her left around him. The first step she took hurt both of them. She stifled the cry that seemed to want to slip out, and with his help she took another step, and another, and another.

She had hiked quickly and efficiently up the hill, and now they shuffled downhill. He tried to be grateful that they were at least not moving up, but he still desperately wanted some level ground. What had taken them only a couple of hours on the way there was stretching into the sixth hour by the time they reached the TARDIS. He had set the sonic screwdriver to its torch setting and they managed to avoid additional obstacles as they traveled. The sonic also served as an excellent compass as the light decreased. It was able to home in on the TARDIS and keep them on the right track.

By the time they reached the TARDIS, River was exhausted and he was little better. He eased her down on the steps of the control room, and examined her knee again. He would have done so sooner, but there hadn't been much point. He couldn't have done anything about it. "How's your head?" he asked.

"Most definitely there," she remarked, placing it in her hands.

He didn't comment as he looked at her knee. He didn't need to touch it. It was the size of a melon, and had turned a lovely shade of deep purple. He had no idea how she'd walked what must have been at least ten kilometers on it. She had an incredible will.

Without saying anything more, he took his place at the controls. He'd had a long walk during which she had been mostly silent, small sounds of pain notwithstanding, and he had a plan in place. He couldn't take her back to the prison hurt – there would be no way she could explain it – but he could take her where she could be healed. He had the infirmary, and he had a general knowledge of medicine, but for some reason he didn't trust his skills with River.

He used the stabilizers. She was already in pain, and he couldn't see making it worse. He took her to the Sisters of Plenitude, far enough into the past that River was not even born, much less a criminal. They were able to mend the torn ligaments in her leg in mere minutes, easing her pain and eliminating the damage. Her concussion took slightly longer, as the brain was more sensitive than limbs, but within an hour she was sorted out. When he walked her back to the TARDIS, he could see the fatigue in her.

"You should sleep well tonight," he told her, thinking that he was ready to rest himself.

"I certainly will," she admitted. "Will you?"

"I was just thinking that I might," he admitted.

"I know you don't need much, but you always sleep better when you're worn down. I would think this would be a good night for it."

Landing them outside her cell, he turned his back on the console and faced her. She was sitting on the stairs again, where he had put her for the trip to the Universal Hospital. She looked worn as well as tired, and he wondered if that was a good thing. He decided that he preferred her to be bristling with energy as she had been when he picked her up.

"I want you to stay out of trouble," he told her softly. "Isolation isn't good for you. If you'll hold your tongue with the guards, it'll be that much easier to slip you out of here during the nights."

"I will make an... effort," she finally said. "I get tired of it some days."

"You knew the consequences when you..."

"Yes, I did," she said, cutting him off. "I did what I had to do then, and I will do the same now."

"And stay out of trouble?"

She gave him a grin, then reached up to kiss him on the cheek. "I will see you soon," she told him.

He stood up and he assisted her in doing the same, then walked her to the TARDIS door.

"And... thank you," she said to him as she closed her own cell door behind her. "For talking such good care of me. I'm not used to needing it. I usually take care of myself, and of you as well."

"I'll just bet you do," he agreed. "Sleep well."

"And you," she said.

He gave her a nod, locked he cell door with the sonic screwdriver, and then stepped through the door of the TARDIS and closed it behind him.


	4. Chapter 3 - River's Dance

_River's Dance_ – Chapter 3

He looked entirely too pleased with himself, and he knew it. As he set the controls on the TARDIS, choosing his date and time almost at random, he couldn't keep the grin off his face. He might not have enjoyed the life and death struggle that they'd been through, but at the very least Amy had come to the realization that Rory belonged to her. It was an absolute relief.

The Doctor loved Amy, but it wasn't _that_ kind of love. He still thought of her as the child he had met – seven years old and eternally trusting – so many years before. She might have lived through fourteen years without him, but it had only been a few hours in his timeline. He enjoyed her enthusiasm and energy, but anything more would just be… wrong.

Most humans were simply children to him. He supposed that was an improvement, though. For years, he had thought of them almost as animals. They had been so immature to him that it was all he could do to associate with them. Now, at the very least, he was able to enjoy their company. He had always seen potential, and he wanted so much to see them develop to be the intelligent and loving species that they were capable of at their very best. This was why he stayed with them, watched them, and protected them. He knew what they _could_ be. Now, if only they would.

But that was a worry for another day. Today, his world was right because the girl – yes _girl_ – he traveled with was finally seeing him as she should. She had realized where her heart was, and that was such a relief. He'd had a few of his companions fall in love over the years, but mostly they idolized him and developed the equivalent of a school-girl crush. Rose had been different, of course, but even then he had known that a long-term relationship would be between difficult, if not impossible. He would never have sent her away, and he cared enough to endure the pain of watching her age and wither and waste away as humans did, but he had to keep a part of his hearts to himself. Humans were entirely too _human_ to get that close to.

And that made him wonder why he had set coordinates for Stormcage once more. River was human as well, and even though his head knew that he would be close to her, would _marry_ her, his hearts couldn't conceive of any situation which would make that acceptable. He must have done; she knew his name. But what in the great, wild, unbelievable universe would he be thinking?

Likely, he wouldn't be. Just as he hadn't thought of where he was going when he had jubilantly plugged in coordinates to show up on her doorstep. Well, as close to a doorstep as she had. He had finally tuned in the coordinates finely enough that he could materialize within her cell. It saved wear and tear on the lock of her cell. The TARDIS liked River enough that if she was walking about, it would settle around her. Another anomaly, the Doctor mused. The TARDIS tolerated most companions, and grew to favor some of them likely because he cared for them and she picked up on it. Over the centuries, the TARDIS had become a part of him, and he of her. It was an unconventional relationship at best. On the other hand, the TARDIS was less likely to physically molest him than most of his companions. Okay, perhaps that was just Amy.

He smiled at the gentle thump as the TARDIS found River's cell and settled there. He gave her a gentle stoke, feeling the happy thrum from her. Her noise wound down around him as he jogged to the door and pulled it open. As he glanced over at River's cot, her head jerking up in surprise, he realized that he had forgotten to attend to when this was. Early days or later? He really wished he had looked more carefully. He had started the input, and it was as though the TARDIS had done the rest herself.

"Hello, Sweetie." She smiled, and she looked pleased to see him, but not as though this was his habit.

He had dropped in recently with increasing regularity, much against his better judgment. He knew better. Their timelines were too complicated, and he was always at such risk for messing up their flow of history. It wasn't that he didn't believe it might be better – _married_ – but rather that he didn't want to create a paradox. He had seen her die, and to change their relationship would change that reality, and potentially kill him. If the fabric of time survived, he most certainly would not… but she would. Some days, knowing too much about your own history was a pure and simple mess.

Well, it didn't matter just now. He was still nearly euphoric over Amy's epiphany, and he wanted to continue his good mood. He would save the deep thoughts for later.

"Going my way?" he asked her with a wink.

"You know I am," she replied quickly. She grabbed the blue book off her bedside table and tucked it under her arm, then she moved to him at a jog. She placed a quick peck on his cheek, then pressed past him to enter the TARDIS. As always, the Old Girl gave a hum that was a little higher in pitch when River stepped aboard, then went back to normal. What was it about River?

"What's your pleasure?" he asked as he moved to the console. "Future or past, busy or quiet?"

"Ooh, my pleasure," she said with a mild leer. "Do you really want to know the answer to that, Sweetie?"

"Location, only," he clarified. "And perhaps a time zone."

"Spoil sport," she mumbled. She moved around the console, making him aware of her nearness. "You don't look like you're in the mood for quiet, though. Let's find a party, somewhere. Someplace fun, and you can take me dancing."

"I only dance at weddings," he informed her.

"I know better than that," she corrected. Then, leaning her head on his shoulder in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable, she added, "Take me dancing."

He actually felt a bit warm when she moved up against him this way. Dancing? Well, why not? He was indeed in the mood for it. Deciding that if he was going to take them someplace fun he'd do it to the best of his ability, he aimed for one of his favorite times and one of his favorite places.

The human race had its moments, and the celebration following despair was always one of the best. He headed for nineteen forty-five, when all of America was celebrating the end of World War II. The war had been as senseless as any he had ever seen – one race attempting genocide, and another attempting world domination, with too many innocents caught in the middle – but the celebration when it was over had been one of the highlights of the twentieth century. They had danced in the street for days, and River Song wanted to dance.

He sent her to the wardrobe to change, although he didn't bother to do so himself. River's tank tops and cargo pants were significantly more out of place than trousers, suspenders, and a bow-tie. He could pass as a little eccentric, but a woman in a tank top would have been scandalous. When she returned, she was wearing a simple cotton dress with a full skirt, and she looked decidedly un-River-like. There was nothing luscious or revealing about the dress, but rather simple lines and an almost innocent feel. No, it was not like River.

"Don't you like it?" she asked, appearing genuinely concerned.

"It's lovely," he admitted, and if he was reluctant he tried not to show it. He had learned how to handle her advances, much as he had handled Amy's passes, but innocence was a different temptation altogether. "Before we head out, I need to know when I've got you."

"Didn't you look at the coordinates?"

"For when I picked you up, yes. I need to know when you are in your time-stream. Grab your book and let's compare notes."

She did as he asked and picked up her blue book from where she'd left it on the console. "Do you have Asgard?" she asked.

"Lovely picnic," he commented. "How about Grand Reef?"

"Ahh, the diving. I'd never seen fish so lively."

He gave her a laugh. "Well, you weren't supposed to pet them," he reminded her.

"They liked it," she argued. "What about Rison IV?"

"Got it. Kensylon Eight?"

She shook her head. "No Kensylon. Do we have a good time?"

"Spoilers," he told her with a grin.

"I'll look forward to it," she said, echoing his smile. "Shall we dance?"

He gave a nod, and took her hand to leave the TARDIS. They exited on a narrow street, and although the noise was muted where they were, he could tell where the party was happening. Downtown Boston on the day when victory was announced over Japan was a lively place indeed. They walked hand-in-hand towards the increasing volume of voices.

As they approached the main road, although their vision was blocked by tall buildings on either side, the crackling music blaring from a radio was loud enough to carry over the streets. The Big Band sound was as bright to him as poppies, and almost as colorful. The smile on River's face was even brighter.

They danced. Most of the dancing was wild and energetic, twirls and swinging arms with very little body contact. The Doctor loved a good dance. Dancing was one of the few times that human beings lost their inhibitions and just acted silly. He enjoyed their acting silly, and felt that inhibitions as a rule were overwhelming and unnecessary.

A few slow songs – love songs – were played, but even those weren't a problem. This wasn't a time in history when public displays of affection were frequent, and River seemed to know enough not to draw attention to them. They danced together and they danced alone, and they even danced a few times with others when a gentleman cut in on him and swept a laughing River away. He danced with a few other women, but mostly he just watched her as she moved tirelessly.

It was a party, and it went on for hours. As the sun went down, the harbor was painted red and orange in its glow. The dancing moved from mostly fast to more often slow, and he became a bit more possessive of River. The dancing got closer with the dimness of the night, illumination provided only through the store windows of the few businesses which remained open. His exuberance from earlier in the evening was replaced by a simple contentment as he moved about the street with River in his arms.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another gentleman coming over to them, probably planning to ask River to dance. Suddenly, the Doctor simply didn't want to share. "Let's go for a walk along the harbor," he requested.

"That sounds wonderful," she replied, and placed her and in his.

So they walked, and if he felt a possessive satisfaction at the disappointed look on the strange man's face, then so be it. Riverboats moving through the harbor cast a soft light, as did the few lampposts that were sporadically placed. Electricity was still fairly new for public use, and not widely available. They could see the headlights of cars – classics, they would later be called – as they moved through streets that held more celebratory pedestrians than vehicles. Yes, the party was still going on and it must be past midnight.

For a long while they walked without talking. They tended to do this a lot, as each was reluctant to say too much. It made for a strange tension when they were together, and yet a not-so-strange familiarity with one another as well. They had become very used to one another's presence, and so often they simply didn't need words.

"It's so peaceful here," she told him softly as they listened to a faint honk of ducks which had found their way to the bay. "It's hard to believe things are so lively a short ways away."

"America does love a good peace," he said with a sigh. "Pity there aren't many of them. There are celebrations like this in most of the major cities, and many of the small towns as well. Here, and in England, France, and Italy. The war machine is at a halt for the moment, and it will stay so for a bit. The losers are not celebrating, of course. And it will be weeks before the countries count the cost and bury their dead… months in Japan before they can even find out the total damage. Well, Germany too, really. The public will be years in finding out how bad things were before it came to a halt. But for this moment… this moment, it's one of the biggest parties on Earth."

"I love the moments," she told him. "We only see glimpses from the TARDIS of course. We see the very best and the very worst."

"I once told Amy that every day is exciting," he explained. "Because with a time machine, I can skip the boring ones."

"The boring ones have their value as well," she reminded him with a soft glance. She moved closer, releasing his hand and instead threading her arm through his. He accepted the closer position without comment as she matched his stride. "The calm between the storms," she murmured, almost too quietly for him to hear.

"And you'd be familiar with those."

She offered another sad smile. "They call it 'Stormcage' for a reason. I don't think the rain has stopped since I've been there, although the thunder and lightning come and go. It must be something with the atmospheric conditions… never anything but gloom. It makes clear nights like this so much more special." It didn't take much to realize that she wasn't really talking about the weather.

"Do you have a lot of... clear nights?" he asked, continuing the analogy. It wasn't what he wanted to say, but how did one ask if her life was worth living? It mattered to him, and he couldn't ignore that fact.

"Oh, we have quite a few," she told him. Then, stopping, she turned him to face her. She placed her hand at the side of his face and just looked at him in the dim light for a long moment. She looked tired, but also content. "You are so young," she said softly. "And yet you worry so much. I'm fine, Doctor. You take very good care of me, and if that's a spoiler, then we will have to live with it."

He smiled back at her as he placed his hand over hers. Her eyes were in shadow, so he couldn't see her clearly. That bothered him, as he really wanted to do so. He wanted to look into her eyes. He wanted to _see_ her the way she seemed to see him. As he held her hand, he turned his face and placed a soft kiss in her palm. "I think I'm going to like getting to know you," he said with an uncharacteristic seriousness.

"I hope so," she agreed. Her hand moved out of his, and then turned to thread her fingers through his. She looked at their entwined fingers with something that could only be described as longing before she turned to walk again, keeping her hand linked with his.

They walked back to the TARDIS the long way, meandering through the dark and quieting streets. The music was gone now, and only the faint sound of a few remaining cars could be heard. River continued to hold his hand, often swinging their arms gently as they walked, much as a child would do. It reminded him of Amy, and that made him smile.

"What?"

"You remind me of Amy," he said before he could think about whether or not it was a good idea to discuss his companion with her. He gestured to their joined hands, swinging easily between them. "Rough and tough on the outside, but on the inside just a little girl."

For a moment, her expression was unbearably sad.

"I don't mean it in a bad way," he rushed to assure her. "It's a good... I mean, not being a child is good, although children are perfectly fine. What I meant was that it's sweet, kind of.. in a way."

"I'll take it as a compliment," she said carefully. "But I assure you it's not a description many would have for me. I'm not... childlike."

"Maybe you should be," he told her, swinging their arms again and giving her a smile. "Everyone needs to be a child. Even I was a child, although it was a long time ago." He thought about it, and added, "A really, really, really, really long time ago."

"I would have liked to have seen that," she admitted.

They were mostly quiet as they finished their walk, returning to the TARDIS that was behind a trash bin an a cramped alley way. He unlocked it with a snap of his fingers, then gestured her inside. She smiled as she preceded him in, and wandered slowly around the console. Her hand trailed over the dials and switches as it always did, more of a caress than a touch, and her voice was too low for him to hear.

"What was that?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Just saying hello," she admitted.

"To?"

"Hmm... I'm going to say spoilers, because that's just too complicated to answer. Let's just say that your girl and I are old friends, and leave it at that."

"I know you can fly her," he said. "Supposedly I teach you."

"You and she both," River corrected.

"I suppose the story behind that is indeed a spoiler," he muttered. He resisted the urge to stomp his foot or raise his voice. It wasn't her fault that they were out of sync in time. In fact, he was the one who had come to her, so if this night was anyone's fault it was his own. He really hated that. He hated it almost as much as knowing the he dare not ask her to explain. "Why don't you change clothes while I take you back," he suggested.

She seemed to know that he was out of patience for the night. She gave a nod and followed his request, returning from the wardrobe with her prison uniform of tank tops, khakis, and boots. He stifled the pang at seeing her out of the feminine dress and dancing shoes that had made her look so lovely. It wasn't that she was unattractive in this clothing, but rather that she had looked so exceptional before.

They were quiet as he landed in her cell and escorted her to the door. She gave him a smile as she left, but it was rather sad. She didn't look back at him as she walked to her bunk and took a seat, opening the blue book she carried to a page and beginning to write. He wanted to say something – anything – as he closed the TARDIS door, but he didn't know where to start. He was confused and irritated and edging into cross, and he feared that anything he said would be the wrong thing. Instead, he left her in silence, and wondered when he would next see her again.


	5. Chapter 4 - Public Transportation

_Public Trasportation_ – Chapter 4

The note was short, sweet, and to the point.

 _Need a lift._

 _Come soonest._

 _XX_

Below that was a set of coordinates in the twenty-eighth century on a small planet just outside the Beta sector.

He seriously considered ignoring the note which had appeared on his psychic paper just after Amy had gone to bed. Since then, he had stared at the note, put it down, and picked it up again to stare at it some more. On the one hand he had no desire to be public transportation to a stranded River Song. On the other, he could use something to distract him from his own unhappiness at the current situation.

Amy was sleeping a lot, lately. He could see the vague effects of depression in her, and he didn't know what to do about it. She couldn't decipher what was wrong, and his feelings were mixed. Wasn't she happier not knowing why she was so sad? Would it help her to try to tell her of a lost love that she couldn't even remember and never would? As he put his hand into his pocket and rubbed the red velvet ring box that remained there, he debated what he should do.

It was his fault, of course. He was the one who had let Rory come. He was the one who had brought Amy along. He couldn't just abandon her now. Before, she'd at least had Rory. Now she had no one... nothing. He couldn't just leave her that way, but he couldn't make her better, either. Perhaps he'd try to cheer her up with a trip, he thought. Yes, that was a good idea. He'd just wait until morning and take Amy someplace nice. She would like that. He wanted to see her smile again. He needed that.

Except that he had this note on his tablet, just staring at him. Could he leave River in whatever situation she had found herself? She had once saved Amy. She had once saved him, along with four thousand other innocent people. Could he really abandon her just on principle, to prove he wasn't at her beck and call.

With a sigh, he admitted the truth. _Of course not._ So it was the Doctor to the rescue, whether he was feeling like dealing with another female or not. Some things never changed.

He plugged in the coordinates and waited for the TARDIS to give her customary take-off noises. Oddly, she didn't. Quietly, she dematerialized and hurled herself through space with himself and Amy riding along. He glanced again at the coordinates, noted that there was an additional tag at the end of them – one he had plugged in without thinking – which had stabilized their flight path. Leave it to River, he decided. He still wondered how she knew his TARDIS so well.

It took him a moment to realize that the TARDIS had landed. Quiet landing, he mused, and once again he marveled at the fact that she could pilot the TARDIS as well as – okay, better than – he could.

He opened the door on a fairly deserted world with mountainous terrain and a small stream running nearby. He didn't recognize the world on sight, so he returned to the console to check the location. The planet didn't even have a name. It was a small planet with a stable atmosphere and a long series of numbers to identify it. Over history, little had been heard from the planet. There were no indigenous humanoids, and only small indigenous animals. The terrain was fair for habitation, but the planet was too small to support any significant population without eliminating resources. Overall, it was just one small planet in a small galaxy with little to recommend it. What in the universe was she doing here?

And where was she? That was the real question. He walked around the TARDIS, and then wandered a distance away with no sign of her. He cross-referenced the pad with the what he had typed in and found it accurate. With some confusion, he walked back out of the TARDIS and began a larger circle of the area. Finally he located an overhang that was likely habituated. A fire pit had been dug and wood arranged within it so that it could be lighted at a moment's notice. Leaves and branches formed what might be a bed in the deepest area of the overhang, although there was no bedding beyond those branches. It was a Spartan area at best, but it could be a camp. Frankly it didn't make a lot of sense.

He wondered if she hadn't waited for him. There was no way to know when she had sent her message, if it was even indeed River. What if it wasn't? He was going primarily by the flippant tone of the note, the handwriting, and the kiss-kiss symbol that was above the coordinates. Perhaps this was a trap of some kind. In retrospect, it wasn't terribly safe for him to follow a blind note that had magically appeared. He probably should be more careful.

Just as he was deciding that he needed to reconsider waiting, he heard movement. He stood quickly and turned towards the sound. Almost immediately, his arms were filled with a scantily clad River Song. She was plastered against him, her lips on his neck, and he was completely at a loss.

"Thank God," she muttered in between small kisses to his neck. "This has been the longest three weeks of my life."

His arms remained suspended in the air, somewhere between the instinct of holding her and the uncertainty of her actions. It wasn't the first time she had been more comfortable with him than he was with her, but this was probably the most extreme. Even when she had been at the end of her life, she had not shown a tendency towards public displays of affection. Actually, she had barely teased that first time, but then the situation had been mostly dire. And no, they weren't in public – far from it – but she was just so... close!

After a long, uncomfortable moment she moved back to look at him. She was indeed scantily dressed. A silver, sequined halter top, a mini-skirt of what appeared to be Earth denim, and silver high-heeled shoes to match the top. Her curls were at the very least askew, and her face and arms filthy. Closer inspection showed fairly significant wear on the clothing as well, with sequins missing, a small tear in the skirt, and more scuffs than not on the shoes. It was about that time her words registered.

"Three weeks?" he asked, his voice squeaking slightly in reaction to her closeness.

She nodded. "Well, I'm certainly not dressed for an expedition, am I?" she asked tartly.

"Um… no."

"I was sitting with Mum on the patio. She was having a cup of tea, and I was enjoying the most lovely chardonnay. Next thing I know, my wrist gets hot and everything flashes. I managed to get a brief look at the vortex manipulator before it completely fried – enough to have a general date – but I missed the specifics." She glared at the leather strap on her wrist. "Stupid thing must have shorted, and it took me with it. Mum must be frantic!"

He took her wrist in his hand and looked at the darkened leather and blackened display for himself. He also noted the healed burns on her wrist beneath the strap.

"The compositer likely shorted out," he muttered, grabbing his sonic and whisking it over the device. "Complete meltdown. River, you must know how dangerous these things are! You're fortunate it only burned your wrist and stranded you here… although why here I have no idea."

"I was on a dig two years from now," she explained. "It's how I recognize the place. I remembered the location, but I only got a glance at the time. The dig was over a week before I got here, my time that is. It was the last time I used it aside from the trip to see Mum. In any case, I'm not as good at translating base-code as you are. I got a glimpse and took a shot."

He looked at her in disbelief. "What would you have done if I hadn't come?"

"You always come," she said confidently.

"River, I very nearly… It's too dangerous being around you. When I'm in my right mind – if I have a right mind – I know that seeing you is a very bad idea."

She looked at him a long moment, considering. "When are you?" she finally asked, her voice unusually flat.

"What?"

"I should have asked first, but the last couple of times… When are you? When did you see me last? What were we doing?"

He gave her a long glance, almost a glare. "Dancing in Boston," he admitted. "Nineteen forty-five."

Her eyes widened and she developed a stricken look. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she replayed their conversation. Had she said anything wrong? Had she let anything slip?

"You didn't give anything away," he assured her. "I don't know any more about you than I did before, except that you're more reckless than I could have believed." Well, he also knew that she had no qualms about a physical relationship. There was an extensive length of leg revealed beneath the skirt, and her back was smooth and soft and… He cut that thought off. All he'd really picked up was that she visited her mother, she liked good wine, and she was stupid enough to rely on dangerous technology to get from time to time.

"I'm not reckless," she muttered. "It was a malfunction. I may be unlucky, and I'm not above leaving much of my life to fate, but I'm certainly not reckless."

"Using a vortex manipulator is reckless," he told her, thinking of Jack hopping all over the universe. But then, he had ridden the outside of the TARDIS and lived to tell the tale. More accurately, he had come _back_ to life after riding the TARDIS. The devices were reckless and dangerous, he corrected in his own mind. "They aren't safe, especially when they're not in good repair."

"So fix it," she snapped. She looked cross, and almost sad. He had no idea why. They had argued before. In fact, he rather enjoyed arguing with her, and she had always seemed to like it as well.

"I'll take you home," he relented. "Just give me a date for Stormcage."

"I'm not in Stormcage," she told him. "Haven't been in years. And you can't take me home. Spoilers, and all that. You'll just have to fix this."

Her face was schooled into reasonable if unreadable lines. She was still upset, but she wasn't going to let him see it. For the first time in a while, he felt the need to dig. She'd looked so sad a moment ago, before the anger had taken her. And now she looked… blank. He knew the shield was deliberate, and he didn't know why she was using it. She had never guarded herself from him before, at least not this way.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

For a long moment he didn't know if she was going to answer, but then she took a deep breath. Her eyes glistened, but she didn't cry. "I'm tired," she admitted. "I've been stuck here for three weeks, living on anything I could skewer with a stick or catch in my hands. Making fire with rocks and sticks is bloody difficult, but I didn't have anything with me except what you see, and that's not exactly all I need for nearly a month in the woods. I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I'm sick of arguing with you. You came to get me, and I'm grateful, but you aren't exactly who I was expecting." The disappointment was almost palpable, coming off her in waves.

"Not yet," he muttered softly.

"No. Not yet."

He thought of the way she had hugged him, molding herself against him without a breath of space between them. "You know, there are times I'm almost jealous of him," the Doctor admitted. "The way you talk about him, and the way you trust him. It's a lot to live up to."

She smiled at that. "I'm sure you'll get there." She honestly didn't sound very sure. She took another deep breath before continuing. "I don't know why the message went wrong. You've taught me how to reach the psychic paper, and how to find you. So many times the message went straight through, the same time frame for both of us. I don't know why it was off this time."

"Maybe it's because I was close," he offered. "Distance-wise, that is. I don't normally get to this sector. There just isn't much of interest."

"Tell me about it," she mumbled. "I've been bored out of my mind. No books, no music, and nobody to talk to."

Three weeks alone, with no idea when or if she'd be rescued. He supposed he understood why she was a little sensitive. He didn't want to think of what might have happened if he'd ignored the message altogether. "I'm here, now. Let me take you home."

"I can't," she repeated. Stepping forward, she rested a hand on his arm. "This is too far in your future, and there are people and places you aren't ready for. Besides, I need to get a message to Mum and let her know I'm okay, and I need to do it three weeks ago. Just fix the band, and I'll go home on my own."

"I've always been in your past," he said softly. "It's never bothered you before. Why now?"

"There are degrees," she told him. "Let's just say I am a very long time in your future, and it's a future I very much want to be a part of. I don't want to do anything to… damage it."

"How will dropping you at your mother's house endanger the future?"

"You'll just have to trust me," she said, looking away. It was unlike her not to meet his eyes. He decided to follow his instincts and not press her on this.

"I can't fix it here," he reasoned. "Let's get in the TARDIS. You can get cleaned up, we can get this fixed, and we'll go from there."

She considered this for a moment, then nodded. He led the way, and opened the door for her. She walked past him with a tired smile, and into the control room. He watched her take a deep breath, walk to the console, and lay her hand on a space between gauges. Her eyes closed, the smile became more genuine, and she visibly relaxed. "Thank you," she said softly, and he knew that River wasn't talking to him.

"Right. Let's start with a bath. You have to be sore."

She gave a nod and followed him silently through the corridors to a large bathing room. It wasn't where he would normally take her, but he didn't want to wake Amy with his visitor. He gestured to the large tub with its large faucet and trays of toiletries, and left her there to go raid the wardrobe.

He found any of a number of outfits, but he finally settled on a large, fluffy robe. He grabbed several large bath sheets from a cabinet on the way out and returned to the bathing room. He could hear water running, so he knocked before cracking the door.

"Just me," he warned her, keeping his eyes politely averted. He'd seen about as much of her tonight as he was comfortable with. "Brought a robe and some towels. You can raid the wardrobe when you're done and pick what you want to wear. I think your outfit is about done."

"Thanks," she replied. Her voice was barely audible above the running water, and it was decidedly... flat. It wasn't exactly River's voice. It lacked the snap, and the playfulness. There was no teasing innuendo. She sounded tired and defeated.

"Are you... That is, can I..." he began, but he wasn't sure how to finish.

"I'm covered. You can turn around."

He did so cautiously, not entirely trusting her not to embarrass him. She was true to her word though, and she was covered to the chest in water and thick bubbles. Her hair was piled atop her head in a kind of knot, leaving shoulders bare and strangely vulnerable. Her knees were also visible above the water, pulled up near her body with her chin resting on them. Her eyes were red rimmed and slightly puffy, and greener than he'd ever seen them. He was grateful she wasn't crying – he had no idea what to do with tears – but it was clear that she had been.

"Can I get you anything else?" he asked.

"No. I just need some time to settle. Can you..." Her voice trailed off.

"Can I...?" he prompted.

"Can you stay a minute. It's just... It's been so quiet for so long."

He smiled at her. He could do that. He sat down on the floor of the room with his legs crossed. "You know, I had a companion once. She was pure hell during an emergency, and I can assure you we had many of them. She could defend herself, keep a calm head in the worst of disasters, and she was rather good at keeping me out of trouble. But when the situation was over... Well, I learned to stay clear. It was _after_ the crisis that she came apart. She hated for anyone to see it." He thought back to Martha, and how she had made it through so much before asking to go home. She had finally reached her breaking point, but she hadn't given up. She had just backed off. "She's a doctor, now," he mused. "Then," he corrected. "Works with Torchwood to keep the Earth safe."

"Martha Jones," River said softly, and then smiled at his surprise. "At some point in your future, you talk to me quite a lot," she explained.

He normally didn't speak of one companion to another, so that surprised him. Then again, most everything about this woman surprised him.

"I'm really fine," she assured him. "Just relieved. When you didn't come – at first – I thought I must have mistaken the date. I found the excavation site just as we'd left it, so I knew another archeological team would be coming by in the next few months... a year at most. I just had to wait it out. I've lived on less to eat, and I had fresh water. There weren't any predators to speak of, which was a mixed blessing. Nothing was there to hunt me, but all of the wildlife was very small." She sat for a long moment, staring at nothing as she appeared to remember. "I spent most of my time hunting or preparing what I'd caught. I've certainly eaten worse, and I've lived through harder times. But in the past few years I've become spoiled, I suppose. I really didn't fancy that lifestyle for another year or more."

"No panic. You just did what you had to." He couldn't hide the admiration in his voice. Most women – and many men – he had known would have given up and starved to death under those circumstances.

"It wasn't the meals or the living arrangements that bothered me," she said quietly. "It was the silence. I suppose I spent too much time in isolation when I was in prison. Sensory deprivation was one of the few effective punishments they had for me. You lose track of the time, the day, yourself... you can't tell up from down. Being alone there... it was almost the same. The days started to blur together, and the sameness was just... I am so grateful that you came to my rescue. Again."

"So, I do this often, then?"

"Spoilers," they said together, and then they both laughed.

"I take it you were in trouble a lot while you were in prison," he commented. "I remember you once mentioned annoying your warden."

"There was that," she admitted. "Mostly they were offended that I came and went so freely. I don't know why it bothered them... I always came back. I never stayed gone more than a day or so, and that was only when she had trouble getting through the firewalls."

"She?"

"The TARDIS," River said. "Even with my help in calibration, they made adjustments to the firewall that scrambled the time focus. It was designed to prevent teleportation and psychic communication, but it was bloody murder on the Transtall coils. We had the hardest time pinpointing landing time. Location wasn't a problem, but the time was always just a bit off."

He nodded his understanding; that would be a problem. He wondered briefly why he hadn't had any problem so far dropping her off when he intended... and then wondered if he had. She really hadn't said anymore after his first visit, when she told him he'd have her back five minutes after she had left. What type of trouble had he let her in for? And when was she planning to tell him about it? Rather than going into it – she really did look worn out – he decided to change the subject.

"Your water must be getting cold," he offered, and he knew that the bubbles were fading. Her skin was nicely pink beneath the water, and if her knees hadn't been pulled to her chest, he likely would have seen far more than he was ready for.

"It feels good," she told him.

"Come out when you're ready. You can take your pick of the bedrooms."

"No thank you," she told him.

"River, it will take me a while to repair..."

"No rush," she told him. "I just... if it's okay, I'd rather come to the control room. I'm really not ready for any more silence."

Looking at the plea in her eyes, he realized that she was more shaken that she was letting on. He gave a nod, and turned to leave. Only a few moments later, she padded out to the control room wearing the warm robe and some fuzzy blue socks. He decided they must have come from the wardrobe. She sat down silently on the steps and just watched him while he fiddled with the vortex manipulator she had left on the floor of the bathing room with her filthy clothes.

Vortex manipulation was a relatively simple concept. It used magnetic resonance propelled through a compositor to create a miniature time vortex through which it transported the wearer. It was low-tech compared to the TARDIS, but then everything was. It wasn't a living unit, but a mechanical device. And this one was well and truly dead. It was a flaming wonder that she hadn't been blinked out of existence or propelled into the sun. He took a few deep breaths to try to control the anger that surged through him when he considered what could have happened. Didn't she place any value at all on her life? He turned around to tear into her, and was shocked to see her sitting on the step with her head on her knees and her eyes closed.

Anger died, only to be replaced by an overwhelming tenderness for this brave, stupid, wonderful woman whom he desperately wanted to know better. What was he going to do with her?

He didn't have an answer. What he did have was a few spare parts that could repair the device and get her back to the time and place she was so desperately protecting from him. He wanted to know her secrets, and that surprised him more than anything. He reminded himself – again – that this was not his time to know. He would wait. He would have to wait. What choice did he have?


	6. Chapter 5 - Bad Decisions

_Bad Decisions_ – Chapter 5

The doctor stood at the railing outside the convention center and looked out over the city. He and Amy had just come from the museum, and he had sent her shopping. She had been so sad after realizing that Vincent had not changed his path through knowing what he would become. He hoped that someday she would understand – as he did – that small victories were occasionally all one could achieve.

He had wanted to cheer her. She had been sad without knowing why when Rory had disappeared. She didn't even get the relief that grieving provided, simply an empty feeling with no clear reason. Now she _was_ grieving the loss of a good man. How had it all gone so very wrong? He had wanted to give her something, not take her peace away. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was any good for people at all. Sometimes it seemed that he only showed them pain.

He hadn't known what to do, so he had offered her an unlimited credit card and sent her into the city proper with instructions to buy a new outfit. He had said he would take her somewhere – anywhere – once she was ready to go. At first she had been reluctant, but finally she had consented. Perhaps she had realized that he needed some time alone to regain his own composure.

Was he any good at all to anyone? His own people were destroyed at his hand. The people he took with him on travels were rarely better off. Rose was banished to another universe, Martha had been unable to stomach traveling any longer, Donna didn't even know who he was anymore, Rory no longer existed, and Amy… What on earth was he going to do about Amy?

He couldn't take her home, not without a family or a fiancé. He couldn't continue to travel with her, risking her life and her sanity. He couldn't drop her off somewhere. What could he do? What should he do? And the bottom line was that he would be so very lonely without her. She reminded him so much of his daughters – his granddaughters – that he was drawn to her. He smiled as Susan's image floated through his mind. Amy had that same beautiful spirit, and the same sense of adventure. She also had the ginger hair, just as oldest daughter had. And when had he started thinking about them? They were centuries gone, and it did no good to dredge up the painful memories. Carefully, he shoved the images back down where they belonged, into the dark pit of his soul where they could not be analyzed.

With any luck, Amy would be a couple of hours in her shopping spree. He needed the time to get himself back in control and decide what he was going to do. Would he keep her with him, compromising her safety? Would it be better to take her home to an aunt who barely knew her and a job of kissing strangers? Somehow, he couldn't justify doing either.

But in the end, he really had no choice. He must take her home. As much as he would miss her, and as much as a part of him needed her, he could not continue to risk her life. In the past, he could think of only one companion he had been this close to who had not been hurt by him, and even then she had carried scars. Sarah Jane had been just as much an adventurous spirit as he, and when he had left her she had been hurt. He knew she had, because she had told him as much. She had wondered what she had done wrong, and she had waited for his return. She had thought he had died – must have done – because he had never come back for her. Only decades later had he realized how much he had hurt her, and had begun to make amends.

Rose had lost her universe, Donna had lost her memory, and Martha had lost her nerve. And Sarah Jane – his precious Sarah Jane - had finally lost her life. Oh, it hadn't been his fault. It had been despite him, rather than because of him. It was ironic, really, that the one companion he had decided to stay in contact with had passed away.

Sarah Jane and he had run into each other time and again, and he had finally realized that they were tied together. Whether it was the extensive time they had spent in the TARDIS or just a fluke of life, Sarah Jane had kept finding her way into his life. Eventually he had stopped fighting it, returning many times to visit with a dear friend and valued companion. No, they hadn't traveled any longer – she was busy being a mother by then – but he had once more enjoyed her company.

On the last visit, he had been greeted by the sad, empty eyes of her son. Luke had told him that after all the years, the battles, the challenges, and the near-death experiences, Sarah Jane – _his_ Sarah Jane – had been defeated by something as mundane as cancer. He had thought of going back in time, changing things, and spiriting her away to a future hospital where cancer was no more than a momentary inconvenience. He had thought of returning her life to her, her vivacious spirit, her wonderful son. But Luke was adjusting, and he had been so grateful that his mother's passing had been mercifully quick. She had been sick, and then she had been gone. She had shown no signs of the illness until it had been so far advanced that her battle had been over. She had not suffered.

If he had prolonged her life through futuristic medicine, he might have extended it... but to what end? There was no cure for aging, and the human body was so very fragile. She would still have died – he would still have lost her – but to a lingering and terrible death. She would have become weaker, frailer, and would likely have lost her mind before the end. It was what humans did. He simply didn't have the heart to put her through that. As much as he wanted a chance to say goodbye, and as much as he wanted one more time to thank her for all she had done – things she would never know or understand – he simply couldn't put her through the torture of a long and lingering death.

So that brought him back to Amy. He had done enough damage in her life, he decided. He had hurt her enough. He had taken enough away for his selfish purposes of companionship and youthful enthusiasm. He needed to let her go. He would let her go. When she returned from the stores, he would take her straight home. It hurt, and it made him feel hollow, but it was the best he could do for her. With that decision made, he felt a shadow of relief within the pain. It was done. He would take her home.

"Hello, Sweetie."

He jerked around at the voice, both shocked and yet strangely unsurprised at seeing River with a sultry smile on her face. She stood there in a stylish pair of boots, close-fitting trousers of a very soft looking material, and a jumper that plunged down low enough to give him a very fine view of… That line of thought didn't bear dwelling on.

"River Song," he mused softly. "Why am I not surprised?" He shook his head at her, at a loss as to what to say. "To what do I owe this honor?" he asked.

She widened the smile and stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek. "I happen to know you can use a friend right about now," she told him gently. "So I've come to take you to lunch."

"Lunch," he said, smiling himself.

"Lunch," she agreed. "And some time to talk, because you are about to make the biggest mistake of your very long life."

He shook his head again, but he let her take his arm and turn him towards the walkway. They headed towards the city proper, with its stores and restaurants. At first they walked in companionable silence, but it wasn't long before he needed answers. She was always a mystery to him, but her showing up now was positively strange. He wasn't sure he was in the mood for strange.

"What mistake am I going to make?" he asked resignedly. It seemed easier to get the conversation over with than to put it off.

"Well, to begin with you're going to choose the crisps, and they will be entirely too greasy. You'll have a miserable case of indigestion. Really, you should consider the chips."

"I don't really like chips," he informed her. "Not anymore."

"They remind you of Rose," she said softly. "But if you want the indigestion, it's up to you. I've warned you."

"You didn't come across time and space to tell me what to have for lunch, did you?" he asked, irritated that she knew things she simply shouldn't know, things he hadn't even put words to for himself.

"Well, no," she admitted.

"So get on with it."

"I want lunch," she reminded him.

"No quiz on when this is for me?"

"I know when it is," she said with a wink. "That's why I'm here."

"What about you?" he asked.

"The future," she said simply. "Relatively distant."

"And you need to tell me...?" he prompted.

"Straight to business," she mumbled. "Absolutely no foreplay. Thank heavens you'll get over that."

He felt his ears turn red as his face flushed. How did she always make him feel like a child? He had learned that the innuendo was simply a part of her personality, and he believed that it was likely a shield of sorts to protect what she was truly feeling. Still, she had a way of getting under his skin.

He ordered a sandwich with crisps – he really didn't like chips, and they _did_ remind him of Rose – and paid for his order and hers. They took a seat on the patio of the small bistro. River had ordered a hamburger that was piled high with chili and cheese, which also covered the chips on her plate.

"You're really going to eat that?"

She gave him a grin and lifted the enormous sandwich for her first bite. Her eyes closed in apparent ecstasy as she chewed, and he had to smile a little.

"Are you in prison or out?" he asked her.

"In," she relied once she had swallowed. "And this is absolutely amazing. Do you want half?"

He shook his head and took a bite of his own, significantly smaller sandwich. Simple ham and cheese, with a pile of crisps beside it. The sandwich was good, but she was right about the crisps... to greasy by half.

He waited until she was half way through her sandwich before he tried again. "Why are you here, River?" he asked. "And don't try to tell me it has anything to do with my digestion."

She put her sandwich down and met his gaze. "You're about to take Amy home. You can't." Her voice was certain, and he really resented the fact that she seemed able to read his mind.

"And you know this because...?"

"There are few times you interfere with your own history," she said briskly. "It's a dangerous path, and you know better. But once – today – you made a very bad choice. You got it in your head that you needed to protect Amy, and that it was your responsibility to return her home. Thankfully, I came to your rescue and convinced you that it was the wrong thing to do – that you need her with you – and you were saved from the worst decision of your life. That's why I'm here," she concluded. "You sent me to keep this from happening. Amy must stay with you."

"I wouldn't do that," he reasoned.

"You did do that," she corrected.

"So what happens if I take her home?"

River shook her head. "Unknown," she admitted. "Because you keep her with you. Looking back, I can postulate that leaving her would have destroyed her. She needs you now just as much as you need her. She is an important part of your future, and you hers."

"I can't keep her safe," he argued.

River closed her eyes. "I can't make any promises if she stays with you, but I can promise that leaving her is the wrong decision. Doctor, things will never be right if you leave her. She will be lost, and alone, and just _wrong_. This is the wrong decision."

"You don't understand the details," he told her, putting his sandwich down and shoving the plate away. He was feeling slightly sick, and thought it might be more than the crisps.

"I understand that you feel responsible for Rory," she told him.

His gaze jerked up, and for the first time he was honestly shocked. He expected almost anything from River, but knowledge of what did not exist wasn't in the realm of possibility. "What do you know of Rory," he asked in a raspy voice.

"I know that nothing is lost if it is remembered," she said softly. "Anything more I say will be spoilers."

"Damned the spoilers!" he yelled. "What do you know?"

"Calm down," she advised him.

"He doesn't exist," he said softly. "How can you..."

"I travel in time and space," she explained. "Just like you. We think differently."

"But, you don't know..."

"Spoilers."

"Don't give me that," he ground out, his voice rising in both pitch and volume. "Tell me what you know!"

"I can't," she said, her voice as soft as his was loud. She glanced pointedly at the other diners who were looking at them with varying degrees of interest. "You know I can't. I'm so sorry, my love, but you know how dangerous this is. You sent me back in your time-stream because I had _already_ come to you in your time-stream. This moment is fixed. The choices you make from here on out are not. You made the right choice because I came, but the moment itself is pivotal. If you make the wrong choice, I will cease to come and this time will not be."

He looked at her in frustration. She was right. He knew she was right, and that she could tell him no more than what she had told him... it was a loop of sorts. He would send her so that she would tell him what to do so he _could_ send her. And if he had done this, had taken this risk, then the situation must have been worth it. Leaving Amy must have irreparable consequences. And yet those consequences did not exist, because he had sent River, and she had pointed him towards the correct choice.

He took a deep breath, finally calming himself. "When time-travel gives me a headache, it's beyond complicated," he muttered.

"Oh, Sweetie," she said softly. "You have no idea how complicated our lives will be."

"And you're not going to tell me," he realized resignedly.

"I..."

"Can't," they finished together.

"I truly am sorry," she told him, and her face was sincere.

"Tell me it's worth it," he asked of her. "The pain and the loss and the... Tell me there is some good, because I'm having a hard time finding it."

"Oh, yes," she said with a smile. "You have so much to look forward to. There is good and bad, and most things in between. You will love and lose, and fight and flee... It's all out there for you."

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. "And us," he asked. "Tell me we're worth it."

She smiled more broadly, with a wicked gleam behind the sparkle in her eye. "Worth everything and more," she assured him. "You just watch us run."

He felt a stabbing pain in his chest as he heard her words. He had heard them before, on the day he had lost her... would lose her. Even then she had said it was worth it.

" _Time can be rewritten!"_

" _Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare! It's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run!"_

He didn't realize that a tear had escaped until he felt her fingers brush his cheek. "I didn't mean to make you sad," she told him.

He took her hand in his, turning it to kiss the palm, completely shaken. He wasn't one for emotional displays – at least not this kind of emotion. Anger he was comfortable with, and childlike glee as well. But tenderness... tenderness was a feeling he still struggled with. He had felt it for many companions after years spent in their company. He had felt it for Amy almost from the first moment he saw her, just as he had for Rose. Why he felt it for River, when he really knew so little about her, was still giving him trouble.

His thoughts were interrupted by Amy's upbeat voice as she walked down the sidewalk towards them. "I thought we were meeting back at the... vehicle," she told him with a suspicious look on her face.

"We would have done, but now you're here," he said brightly, pulling himself out of his own thoughts and gesturing to River. The older woman turned around and faced Amy with a smile as he gestured to her. "You remember River?" he asked.

Amy looked taken aback for a moment, and then she returned River's smile. "Of course," she said. "The missus," Amy remarked, giving River a wink.

The Doctor gave a cough just as River gave a laugh. "I see you're keeping him in line," she said as she stood and pulled Amy into an embrace that was returned willingly. The two of them separated after a moment and just looked at one another in some sort of accord. The doctor was not entirely comfortable with the exchange.

"We ran into one another and decided to have lunch," he told Amy. "Would you care to join us?"

She reached down and snagged a crisp from his plate, then grimaced. "Greasy," she complained. "I'll skip it this time. Shall I meet you back at the TARDIS?" she asked.

"Why don't you walk back together," River suggested as she stood and checked her wrist. He almost said something as he glimpsed the vortex manipulator, but decided against it. He wasn't sure he wanted River and Amy together, although he couldn't say why.

"You don't have to go," Amy said quickly. "I wouldn't have interrupted if..."

"You're not interrupting," River assured her. "We were just finishing up. Weren't we, Doctor?"

He looked at her for a long moment, remembering the touch of her fingers on his cheek, the pain of watching her give his life for his, and knowing that too many points in history were fixed. He was reluctant to leave her. Admitting it – to himself if no one else – he enjoyed her company. But as she had told him, they would meet again.

He stood, and stepped towards River to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for the message," he said softly.

"Anything, Sweetie," she replied, but there was no sarcasm in the endearment. It was just that: a term of affection, or even love. "Until next time." Turning to Amy, she flashed a grin and a wink. "Keep him on a short leash," she advised. "He's trouble, this one."

"I know," Amy answered. "Will I see you again?"

"Count on it," River replied, and then she gave a last smile before she turned to walk away. They watched as she strode down the sidewalk to the nearest turn, then stepped out of their line of sight. A slight flash of light – almost too little for them to see against the bright daylight – and they knew she was gone.

"I like her," Amy said. "I mean, I really like her. She's... good for you."

The Doctor gave her a mock glare. "How do you mean?" he asked as he slung one arm over her shoulders and steered her towards where they had left the TARDIS.

"She... seems like an equal," Amy explained. "Mostly, you treat everyone like they're children. It's annoying, but I understand it. You know so much more than we do, and you've lived so much longer. But with River you're different. You treat her like she knows what you do."

"No one knows what I do," he told her flippantly. Then, with more consideration, "I don't think anyone would want to."

"She's good for you," Amy reiterated. "You need a challenge."

"She is that," he muttered.

Amy giggled as she shifted bags on her arms. He reached over and took a couple of them, leaving her with a few others to carry. "How many outfits did you buy?" He asked.

"Enough," she admitted. "All of Paris before me, and unlimited credit. A girl doesn't get to shop like that often."

"I'm glad you had a good time," he said honestly.

"It would have been more fun to go with River, I think," Amy mused. "I bet she's a great shopper."

"I bet she is," he agreed. They walked along in silence for a few moments before he bumped Amy's hip with his own. "So, where do you want to go next?" he asked.

"Surprise me," she requested.

The Doctor smiled and started thinking. He planned to do just as she asked.


	7. Chapter 6 - Just Sleep

_Just Sleep_ – Chapter 6

Some nights, he just watched her sleep. This was one of those nights.

He had developed a habit of picking River up from Stormcage each evening, after Amy had settled in to sleep. He was tired of River having the upper hand, and knowing him so much better than he knew her. He decided that he would get to know her, or at least try to. He hadn't counted on how much he would enjoy it. Nearly every night, he would promise himself he wasn't going to do it, then he would spend some time fiddling with the TARDIS and finally he would give in and go pick her up.

She was rarely surprised to see him. She came with him willingly, but that didn't surprise him. He might not be _her_ Doctor yet, but he was a break from the monotony of prison at the very least. They went on their travels – stopping off for dinner in Paris, or a walk along the canals of Rome, or jaunting off into the far reaches of space – and then he had to take her back. Some nights he did so directly, but on others she was tired enough to ask for a nap.

The first time it had happened, he had been a little uncomfortable. He had known what she would be to him, and keeping her around for extended periods seemed to be tempting fate. Still, on the nights when she was particularly tired he found that she was a little listless without some rest. She had told him once that she had a hard time sleeping in the prison. He could certainly understand that.

So he had decided months ago to have the TARDIS set up a room. No sooner had he made the choice than a room appeared. It hadn't been what he had planned. The room had a huge bathroom – both a shower and a tub – and a bed that was enormous. There had been a small wardrobe, a couple of comfortable chairs, and a desk. Her bedding was in browns and beiges, trimmed in a soft peach color, as fluffy as a cloud, and mounded with pillows. Frankly, it wasn't what he had pictured for her. He would have thought boudoir maroon or cabaret black would have been more her style – lace and useless frill, with a sexy edge – but that wasn't what the TARDIS had created. Instead, when he had input River Song, the TARDIS had created a lovely space that was both utilitarian and comfortable. The Old Girl never ceased to amaze him.

The first time he had taken River into the room, she had been stunned speechless. Honestly, it had been one of the few times he had seen her so dazed. This didn't make sense to him, because she had seen their future, so she must have known about the room. Or maybe she hadn't. Maybe they were finally moving through time in the same direction, at least for a while. She had looked around, wandered to the bed, and picked up a soft pillow. "This is for me?" she had asked very quietly.

"The TARDIS designed it," he was quick to tell her. "You need a place to sleep, and sometimes to clean up, and I guess she thought you'd need space after being in a cell all day."

River had silently nodded, walked slowly into the bathroom, and closed the door. He had just stood there, waiting and wondering what he should do, as he heard the water come on. Thinking she might have just decided to take a shower or something, he had backed from the room and headed for his control console. He felt more comfortable there than standing in a woman's bedroom.

She had returned a few moments later. No shower, he decided when he looked her over, but a freshly scrubbed face with red-rimmed eyes and a tenuous smile. "The clothes are amazing," she told him. "I don't know how she got the size right."

"Oh, she can certainly be amazing," he muttered, thinking how different the room had been from what he had pictured.

"It's all so perfect. Thank you." River was uncharacteristically serious and genuine.

He had given her a shrug – he hadn't really done anything, after all – and asked her where she wanted to go. River had been just as willing as he was to move on from the moment. He didn't think she was any more comfortable with it at that point than he was. And the room had gone to good use. Many nights, she had slept there while he dealt with minor repairs. Some nights she came and just slept. She rarely closed the door to the room, although he kept it closed when she wasn't around. He didn't want to deal with Amy's teasing over the room – her insinuations that River was really his wife – any more than he had to. It might be true – future true – but it was still uncomfortable.

Tonight had been one of the nights when River seemed too quiet, and he had finally suggested she get some sleep. She hadn't argued, which she normally did by explaining that she didn't want to miss a minute away from Stormcage, but instead she had walked up the stairs and taken a few steps down the hallway before returning.

"I don't…" she began, but she didn't seem to know how to finish.

"Don't?" he prompted.

She took a deep breath. "I don't want to be by myself," she finally admitted. "Would you mind… either you can come sit in my room, or I can rest out here."

He looked at her a long time, noting the fatigue around her eyes and the vaguely haunted look. He knew that look. "You wound up in solitary, again?" he asked.

She didn't answer, which was an answer in and of itself. He didn't press her. Instead, he set the TARDIS in orbit around a comfortably deserted planet in a quiet corner of the universe, and put her systems in standby. Then he left the console and headed for River.

He climbed the stairs and followed her down the hallway to her room. Solitary confinement wasn't simply putting her in a private cell – she was always in a private cell – but rather an exercise in sensory deprivation. The sessions in solitary, River had explained, involved a cell with smooth walls and floor, no light or sound, and minimal food and hygiene accommodations. It wasn't torture, but to a mind as quick as River's it was miserable. She needed… stimulation.

He had learned when he picked her up that when she wasn't in her room, he needed to check back on the next day. He tried to keep his visits relatively chronological for his own sanity. The secondary benefit was that he didn't have as much guess work about where they were in time. He knew where to find her, what he had said and done on their previous visits, and for the most part what she needed from him. It had been a good way to get to know her without letting things get more complicated than they already were.

He had checked in on her the previous two nights – if the TARDIS was correct in her navigation, and he had no reason to think she hadn't been – and she had not been in her cell. That meant that she had likely been in solitary for a couple of days at least. "What did you do?" he asked. "Is it the warden again?"

"No," she told him quietly. "I got in a fight."

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "A fight? River, you could have been hurt." She might be imprisoned for a horrible crime, but she wasn't a horrible person. To his knowledge, she didn't have any specific skills in fighting. The guards were armed with multiple weapons, and the prisoners there were the worst criminals in the universe. Was she trying to get herself killed?

She shook her head. "I'm stronger than I look," she reminded him. "Some of the other women aren't. Most of the time, the guards keep us separate, but once in a while… I'm not going to stand by and watch someone hurt, or worse, when they don't have the strength to fight back."

He followed her into her room, noting that she left the door propped wide open. She sat on the edge of the bed, and she looked exhausted.

"I would have thought you might have slept some of those two days," he remarked. "To pass the time if nothing else."

She shook her head. "It's safer to stay awake," she told him. "If I fall asleep, I lose track of time. I have a pretty good sense of time passing, and if I lose that I just feel… I have to stay awake."

"No wonder you look like the walking dead," he snapped, feeling terribly sad for her, and channeling that sadness right into anger. "You can't stay awake for days at a time!"

"I do what I have to do," she told him, her calm voice a counterpoint to his yelling. "I knew you'd come at some point, and I knew I'd sleep when you did. I'm sorry if it cuts into our time."

He took a deep breath and settled himself. "We have as much time as you need," he reminded her. "I'll drop you off as soon as I pick you up."

She gave him a weak smile as she lay down on the bed, and he was reminded that his timing was not always so perfect. He hooked a chair with his foot and pulled it over to sit next to the bed, and he took her hand in his. Her hands had always amazed him. They were neither small nor delicate, but rather they were useful hands. She had fairly long nails she kept polished and neat, and yet she had calluses from work. How anyone could have work-roughened hands without breaking a nail was beyond him. He considered it one of the mysteries of River.

She held his hand with hers, just a little more tightly than she normally did – when she did – and then turned on her side and pulled it up by her face. He just watched as she took a deep breath, let it out on a long and relieved sounding sigh, and fell almost instantly into sleep. He could tell the moment it happened, because her face lost its wary look and relaxed completely. It seemed the only time she was really at peace was when she was sleeping.

So he watched her, and he mulled over in his mind what it must be doing to this lively, energetic, intelligent woman to be cooped up in a cage all day. Yes, he had her nights – or most of them – but the days must be wearing on her.

He wished that he could simply take her somewhere and leave her there, but he knew it wasn't a possibility. As nice as it might sound, he knew it wasn't an answer. First of all, he didn't really know who she had killed or why, and she showed no indications of trusting him with that information in the near future. Until he had all the information, he had to assume that she indeed needed to be there unless she was closely supervised. In addition, she had told him that she was pardoned at some point – for some reason – and a prison escape would eliminate that possibility by creating a true crime. If she was to have her future, he could not interfere with it.

But that didn't mean he had to leave her there to rot. She was bright and lovely, and in the prime of her life. Human lives were short, and he did not want that time wasted. That was one reason why he did what he could to make her days more bearable. The other reason was more personal. He simply enjoyed being with her. She had such a lively mind, and she could keep up with him when he explained something fairly complex. She understood the intricacies of the universe without oversimplification, and she could jump from time to time just as easily as he could. It was rare to know someone who was so adaptable.

His companions varied in their ability to tolerate time travel. Rose had relished it, as had Donna. They had been very uniquely suited to the TARDIS, to him, and to his travels. Mickey and Martha had been less so, and the travels had stressed them. Amy and Rory were also well suited to time travel, but he wondered how much of that had to do with growing up near a major temporal breach. The crack in Amy's wall had exposed her to temporal anomaly, and Rory likely spent nearly as much time around it as Amy had. He honestly couldn't be sure. They also had one another to rely on, and that had to make the time transitions easier.

It was just possible that River also had some sort of innate predisposition that suited her to time travel. It didn't explain why the TARDIS liked her so well, or why she could fly her, but it at least rationalized her ability to move so smoothly between times and places. He had spent a lot of time thinking about the matter – far more time than he cared to admit, truth be told – and he simply couldn't find a better rationale. He didn't bother asking River. He knew she would just warn him about "spoilers". He really was starting to hate the word.

River moved in her sleep, pulling his hand under her cheek and becoming slightly restless. She held on for dear life as her body twitched and her eyes moved quickly beneath her eyelids. He was familiar with this as well.

"Shh," he told her. "You're safe, River. You're safe. It's just a dream." He repeated the reassurances over and over until she finally settled, stroking her hair as he did so with his free hand. He was used to this as well. Almost every time he saw her sleep – whether she was napping on the steps in the console room, or dozing off while they watched a sunset on some distant planet – he saw her battle the nightmares.

He could certainly commiserate; he had them almost every time he slept. Nearly a millennium of being alone, of travel and war and seeing the worst of every race there was... it was not a recipe for restful sleep. He could keep the demons at bay when he was awake, but not as easily when he slept. It was one of the reasons he did so very rarely. Thankfully, his physiology did not require a great deal of sleep.

River did. She slept for hours, fighting the nightmares occasionally and being calmed by him almost immediately. It really didn't occur to him that he had spent so much time just watching her sleep. It wasn't a boring thing to do, oddly enough. Her facial expressions between the nightmares were entertaining to say the least. At times, they were positively funny. His hand fell asleep where she had twisted his wrist to tuck his hand under her cheek, but shifting position solved that problem. His back also developed an ache from leaning over, so he grabbed one of her many pillows and used it to prop himself more comfortably, resting his feet up on the bed.

He didn't expect to doze off himself. For a few moments he must have, because her movements startled him back awake. He calmed her, settled himself again, and resumed his vigil. She hadn't wanted to be alone, so he would not leave her alone. He couldn't have said why it was so important to him, but it was.

Nearly ten hours after she lay down, she began to show true signs of waking. She released his hand, stretched slightly, and at length she opened her eyes. His own met hers as she flashed her glance around, orienting to her surroundings.

"Hello, Sweetie," she said, and her voice was deep and gravelly from sleep. He rather liked the sound, although he couldn't have said why.

"Hello," he replied.

She watched him a moment longer, and then shifted to sit up as he moved himself out of her way. When she did so, her balance appeared to be momentarily off. She shook her head, gripped the mattress, and finally looked back up. "How long was I out?" she asked. Her voice was still a low rumble from disuse. "I seem to have lost track."

"A good while," he admitted. "Your body had to catch up."

She took a deep breath and nodded her agreement. "Restroom," she told him. "Then a shower, I think."

He nodded and stood, then held out a hand for her. Uncharacteristically, she allowed him to assist her to stand. Once she was fairly stable, he released her so that she could go into the restroom. She closed the door behind her and he left her to her privacy. As an afterthought, he closed the door to her room. He wouldn't put it past her to traipse past the door in no more than a towel, and he wasn't ready to deal with that. His feelings from just spending the night beside her were confusing enough.

It hadn't been bad. In fact, he had rather liked the silent companionship. He hadn't minded her restlessness, even when it had woken him. She had likely saved him from the nightmare he would have experienced if he had slept more than a few minutes. If he were truthful, he was more disconcerted by the fact that he _wasn't_ upset by the situation. He felt that he probably should have been.

After several moments, he decided that he simply wouldn't dwell on the situation. There wasn't a point. Instead, he would set course for Earth, probably in America. If memory served – and it normally did – he should be able to find an acceptable pancake house to visit when River was cleaned up and ready to go. Once he got her some breakfast, they could talk about where she wanted to visit today.


	8. Chapter 7 - The Impatient Doctor

_The Impatient Doctor_ – Chapter 7

Finding River Song was not difficult. The TARDIS liked her, and she was ever-present in its records. He didn't always have to look for her at Stormcage. Although he didn't dare look through his personal future, he searched out his recent past for her. He knew that she was in Archaeology, so that narrowed his field of search. He also knew that she skimmed through time with as much efficiency as he did.

He could wait. That would have been the practical approach. But for some reason, he simply didn't want to. He had already been patient. He had waited from the time she had died for him until she had found him once more. She had been just as enigmatic upon their last meeting as she had been in the past. More so, truth be told. And she had been deliberately elusive in Amy's backyard.

There was something about her. It wasn't just attraction, although that was certainly present, but something... more. She was one of the few people – and possibly the only woman – who was truly his equal. She was smart, sassy, and yet sensible in her own way. She would take on the Devil himself just for the challenge of it, and he had known a few along the way. He wanted to get to know her, and he didn't want to do it on her terms.

She left him off-balance, even after so many meetings. He hated that. He wanted to get his footing back with her. Maybe if he thought about it, he could come up with a time to meet her when she would let something slip. It was certainly worth a try. His best bet, he decided, was to catch her later, once she had left prison.

The TARDIS tracked her to a notable find in the Ranar Quadrant. A small planet just inside the ring of a slightly larger planet had produced an impossible number of artifacts. Apparently, Professor River Song had been instrumental in disproving the artifacts and bringing the culprits to justice. The Doctor carefully set coordinates for the system, deciding that she likely would have had to stay in the general area for at least a few days after the charges had been brought. It was as good a time as any to meet her.

As he eased the TARDIS to the correct time and place, he felt that the trip had gone more smoothly than most. It was almost as though she – the TARDIS – wanted to see her as well. That was ridiculous, of course. Or maybe it wasn't... River talked to the TARDIS and gently touched her, seemed to pick up on her moods, and generally communicated with her as easily as he did. She didn't make a big deal of it, but the interaction was there for him to see if he looked.

He stepped out the door and made sure it closed behind him. She would keep out any intruders so long as he had the key. He looked around the dig site, seeing definite signs of strip mining, and realized the damage that had been done to the small planet. It was no wonder that River had turned investigator.

He walked around the edge of a blocked-off area, heading for a group of tents that was visible against the sunset. It was a beautiful sky, with rings visible as purple stripes on an orange background, with silver stars sprinkled here and there. As he got to the largest of the group of tents, he heard raised voices. Not surprisingly, River's was among them. He decided he couldn't have planned his arrival better.

He listened shamelessly. She was livid, and she let them all have more than one piece of her mind. She ranted, she argued, and she accused. Gradually the other voices faded, and her voice got louder. He decided a retreat might be timely and stepped around the corner of the tent, out of view.

She left the tent in a storm of movement, all energy and fury and color. He found it incredibly beautiful, but decided not to dwell on that. He stretched out his long legs to follow her, wanting to wait until she had expended some of that energy before he confronted her.

It didn't work as planned. After thirty meters, she turned and pulled a fairly large gun and pointed it at his chest. He made a very quick stop.

The play of emotions on her face was priceless, and if she hadn't been armed he would have been very amused. As it was, his emotions were more nervous than anything else. Why did she have such an affinity with weapons? He supposed that with her sparkling personality, they came in handy.

"Not armed," he told her quickly, flashing a forced smile. "Just dropping in for a visit."

"What's wrong?" she asked urgently.

"Aside from the gun you're pointing at me?" he asked quickly.

She lifted the barrel, pointing it at the sky, but she didn't put the weapon away. "Aside from that... yes."

"Nothing," he admitted. "This was the easiest time to track to you to. A good deal of publicity around the dig. Your name hit the history books fairly hard."

"Well, then... Hello Sweetie. You just came to what? Talk?"

"More or less," he said, his mouth quirking into a grin. "Actually more," he admitted.

"You know how dangerous this is," she said, looking around surreptitiously. "Your future is my past. I might say something... You've always warned me against this."

"I feel like breaking some rules," he admitted. "Tell you what... we'll stay away from my personal future, and just talk about your past. The past without me, that is."

"Why?"

He gave a shrug, and hoped he wasn't blushing so that she could see. Maybe she would blame it on the sunset. "Curiosity," he admitted.

"Ground rules," she said firmly.

"I won't ask about my future," he agreed. "And you don't have to offer it."

"If I don't answer anything, you have to let it go," she requested. "I have my reasons, and I promise it's for both our sakes."

"Walk with me in the sunset," he offered. "I will try not to ask more than you can tell."

She didn't answer, but she did nod. He smiled, and they turned together to walk away from the tents and out across the desert. The sky was darkening from indigo into black, and the stars were greater in number and brighter in appearance. The orange rings of the planet they were orbiting looked close enough to touch. The further they got from the camp, the brighter the sky seemed to be.

"I never tire of the wonders of the universe," he told her.

"Nor I," she admitted. "The sky here is almost as wonderful as Artemis II."

"I love it there," he told her.

"I know," she said with a smile. At his quick look, she admitted, "We've been."

"Well, I am a fun date," he told her smugly.

She smiled broadly. "You can be," she answered.

"What _can_ you tell me?"

"You know that your rules are fairly strict," she told him. "I'll try to remember what you used to do with me. Remember, in my past _you_ were the one who had all the foreknowledge. It made me mad. Every time I asked a question, you hit me with 'spoilers' and wouldn't answer. I got all the lectures about how it was for my own good and how I would find out in time, but it was so frustrating."

"So, what would I approve of?"

"Just the promise. It will be wonderful, but you have to wait until you live it. Words will never do it justice."

"You know my name," he said softly. "Your future... my past.. you tell me my name. We both know what that means."

"If I did that – do that – the situation must have been dire."

He didn't dare answer. The last thing he needed her to know was that he had watched her die for him.

"I promised myself that I'd never marry. I especially would never marry a human. That's what I don't understand," he insisted. "I promised myself decades ago… centuries ago… not to marry a human. Travel with, yes, but never marry. The only time I even considered…"

She smiled at him. "Rose," she said softly. "But it wasn't to be."

He wanted to scream in frustration. "You see… you see… that's it! How can you know what I've never told anyone? You know things I haven't even admitted to myself!"

"If it makes you feel any better," she said gently. "Finding out about Rose Tyler took getting you very, very drunk. You don't speak of her often, and when you do… Well, I didn't ask after that. It causes us both pain, you see."

He took in a sharp breath, and then let it out carefully. "Why would I marry a human?" he muttered. "Your lives are… fleeting. Marriage is eternal."

"There were extenuating circumstances," she admitted. "Besides, how do you know we were married. I may not have denied it, but neither have I admitted it. For all you know, I'm making this all up."

He remembered her face as she prepared to die, when he had told her that time could be rewritten. " _Don't you dare," she had told him. "Not those times… not one line."_ It had been adamant, and it had been honest. She had been willing to die for whatever their relationship had been… would be. Even after negotiating time for centuries, their oppositional time lines were enough to give him a headache.

"Different subject," he suggested. "What were you yelling about?"

She took a moment to shift gears and answer him. "Yes, I was yelling," she admitted. "You've always had the ability to distract me. I hadn't forgotten, but…"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Yelling?"

"Permits," she muttered. "They have permits for the mining. No better than thieving pot hunters, destroying every bit of history surrounding the artifacts, and they are hiding behind a technicality. They aren't even within the parameters of the permit, but I can't prove it. So long as the stolen property is returned, they get credit for discovery and no penalty. They will go on to do this again, because they are one of so many that regulation is impossible."

"I'm sorry," he told her, and he was. History was something to be studied, recorded, and preserved. Having that violated upset him as well. He might like to play around with history, but he tried never to destroy it.

"You may have very well saved a life," she admitted. "Certainly you preserved my career. You always have been able to settle me down. It's one of your gifts."

He watched her for a moment. "I'm not known for being calm," he told her.

"Not now," she agreed. "But you have been. Calm, calculating, angry, excited… I think you've been everything at one point or another."

"How would you know?"

She looked at him for a long moment, and he could tell she was debating how much she wanted to say. Honestly he didn't know how much he wanted to hear, but the _not knowing_ was making him insane. "I've seen most of you," she told him, and then turned her back to step away. "It was actually your idea. You were very careful, making sure that your younger self never encountered us – it's just too dangerous to cross your own time line – but you made sure I had seen and could recognize each of your forms. "

"Why would I take that risk?" he asked.

"I travel by vortex manipulation," she explained. "More often than not, I'm drawn to significant events in the universe in a similar way as the TARDIS. It's likely that we will run into one another at one or more points. You wanted me to avoid that if possible, but if I got into trouble you wanted me to know how to find you. You were afraid I'd wind up in the past and not know it when I _had_ found you. You told me you would always help, even if you didn't know who I was. It was the kind of thing you have always done."

"Sounds like me," he admitted.

"In any case, I got a tour of your past lives. It was very enlightening. You have certainly had some… interesting companions." She said the last with a grin, or perhaps with a smirk.

"Interesting?"

"Aliens, scientists, historians… quite a variety. Lately, however, you've been more interested in female companionship."

Yes, it was definitely a smirk. "You seem very tolerant," he said, not sure how he felt about a wife with no jealousy whatsoever. It wasn't that he was promiscuous – quite the opposite – but it was the principle of it.

"I like most of your companions," she said simply. "You took me to Martha and Micky's wedding. And I really like Jack," she added with a wink. "Most everybody does."

"No doubt," he muttered.

"There are others," she said carefully. "But I think they're beyond your time zone. Let's just say that you have good taste in companions. They take care of you just as much as you care for them. Frankly, I'm grateful. They are with you when I can't be. You aren't meant to be alone... I don't think you could tolerate it for any length of time."

"So, someday in the future, we don't just take off together in the TARDIS and live happily ever after?" He knew they didn't. He had seen the ending.

"No," she admitted. "You would never settle down that way. You shouldn't. It would be a disservice to the universe."

He didn't know what to make of her. Nothing she said was out of the realm of possibility, and yet nothing she said made perfect sense either. She turned back to him, and they looked at one another as the dark indigo sky faded into black, the orange ring no longer visible. She looked up at the sky, and then turned to walk back the way they had come.

He fell into stride beside her, his mind racing over all she had said as well as what she had not. He knew little more than before he had come. He had shared parts of his life with her – some that he had not shared with anyone – and yet every word she spoke felt like truth. Yet she said little more than that. Her words were generic, as he supposed he must have warned her to be. She spoke of his future as he would have to speak of hers… relatively vague generalities. Anything more would risk knowing too much. Knowing the future was dangerous, for it could change fluid history into fixed points which caused fatal paradoxes. This was why he had been so reluctant to come. This was why he'd needed to come. Whether or not she was truly his wife, she most certainly knew and followed his personal rules.

He wasn't even aware of when her hand slipped into his. Their fingers entwined in a way that felt... right. How could that be? He could not conceive of any circumstance that would challenge the lifestyle he had held for nearly a millennium, but he couldn't deny that just being here with her – not even talking, but just _being_ – was so much better than anything else he could think of at the moment. Better than any adventure, any historical event, or any futuristic jaunt. Why was that? What _was_ it about her?

"You're thinking too hard," she told him with a gentle bump against him. "It will be so much easier if you stop thinking about it, and just live it. I promise, it isn't so bad. You may even enjoy it."

He wasn't so sure. The waiting was grating on him, and no matter the necessity he hated not being the one who knew what was going on. Still, there wasn't a great deal he could do about the situation. He had taught her the lessons well, and she was standing by them... his future was clearly more secure than his present peace of mind. Giving up – or perhaps giving in – he gave her hand a squeeze and continued walking beside her in silence.

 _How much longer must he wait to find out who she would truly be to him?_ And did he really want to know, if it put him on the down-side of their relationship?

For now, he just held her hand as they walked back towards the camp.


	9. Chapter 8 - Time Lines Redistributed

_Time Lines Redistributed_ – Chapter 8

The doctor sighed as he closed the doors to the TARDIS, leaving Rory and Amy to hash out her preference of talking to her best friend over her husband, and relieving him of the discomfort of watching them... constantly. It wasn't that he minded kissing – exactly – but he still saw Amelia Pond as seven years old, and watching her kiss anyone was just... wrong. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with kissing. Not at all. He liked kissing, actually. Well, he had liked it. This particular body hadn't spent a lot of time doing it, but his previous body had spent its share of time in the practice. Frankly, it was one of the advantages of regenerating into a younger body. They were quite simply more fun.

But this body had not, so far, had much opportunity to kiss. Well, he had been kissed by River earlier that night, but it had been... unexpected. Maybe the kiss itself hadn't been so unexpected, but the familiarity with which she kissed him was more than a little disconcerting. She hadn't kissed him like it had been a first kiss. Instead, she had kissed him as though she had done it for years – and so had he – and it had been overwhelming.

He walked around the console of the TARDIS as his mind went back to the kiss. Casual. It had started so easy and casual, as though she did it every day, and then it had deepened so quickly. He supposed he had expected it to be quick, as first kisses normally are, but it hadn't been. It had stretched, and he had floundered. Truthfully, he had flailed a bit, he remembered with a bit of embarrassment. What must she have thought? He truly wasn't a teenager, despite the way he often acted. The look on her face...

But she hadn't been laughing. Now that he thought about it – he hadn't really done so at the time, so anxious he had been to get out of there – she had been far from amused. Her expression had been... hurt. Anguished? Why was that, he wondered? Why would she...

He puzzled on it for a good long while before an answer came to him. Understanding the female mind was never easy, and understanding a human female mind was even more difficult. She had looked so very sad. Her expression had first been puzzled, asking why he had reacted as he had. When he had told her it was his first time, her face had fallen. Her expression had crumbled. Her entire being had...

His firsts were her lasts. Of course. Just as the first time he had met her had been the last time she would be seen, their time lines had a tendency to work in reverse. It was infuriating at times, and the more times he saw her the less he believed that their experiences were entirely linear. They didn't have to meet in reverse order. They didn't have to meet in _any_ particular order. They both traveled in space and time at will; it wasn't the random whims of the universe that decided their fate, but rather their own decisions.

At some point, they would marry. He knew that much from their first meeting. He had given her his name, so they must be married. That being the case, and given her belief that they were meeting in reverse, it was no wonder she had been so upset. He couldn't help but grin at his own cleverness. He understood! He knew why she had been so upset, and it was something he could fix. All he had to do was break the pattern. If he showed her that the pattern was flexible, then they would be back on even footing. He might still know how her life ended – something he could not change without sacrificing four thousand lives, including his own – but he didn't have to watch her face fall every time he experienced a first.

He checked the TARDIS records, made a couple of mental calculations, and then asked a favor. "Come on Old Girl," he said softly. "You like River. Help me out, here."

With more than a little care he brought her in gently, softly and silently, and invisibly. Once he had landed, smiling in pride at the quiet job he had made of it, he flipped switches and swung monitors about until he had a good view of River Song.

She sat on her cot, her chin resting on her knees, a blue book open next to her as she flipped through pages. Her journal – the same one that rested in his wardrobe, folded into yards of wool – must hold each of the adventures that they were yet to have. What one was she reading, he wondered? After the expression on her face when he left her, he could only imagine what she was searching for in the pages she turned. He couldn't see her face now, as it was hidden by the curls which fell forward. He hoped that it would be less desolate than when he had left her a few moments before.

He scanned the equipment in the small cell, and smiled in triumph. This wouldn't even be difficult. Opening the door of the TARDIS as quietly as possible, he slipped out and pointed his sonic screwdriver towards first one camera – setting three hundred, twelve – and then another. Finally, as River's head swung around, he pointed the sonic towards the door and chose a lower setting. The door clicked open.

Her face was wet. He suppressed a moment of panic at the tears, resisting the urge to turn and run. These tears were because of him, he was sure. They were because she was sure that something she enjoyed was ending. He knew better, and it was time she learned. If they were going to be together on this ridiculous jaunt through time, they needed to get some things straight.

He gave a quick zap to the camera in her cell – setting four-fifty this time – and sat down on the edge of the cot to reach for her face, cradling it between his hands as he used his thumbs to wipe away the tears. "No more of that," he advised. His tone was firm, no-nonsense.

She gave a sniff. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"I'm a little slow," he told her with a sheepish grin. "It didn't register until everything got quiet. I guess I didn't _see_ it until then, or think about it. And when I did, I knew I had to come back."

She looked at him in utter confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You kissed me," he answered.

Her expression wasn't any clearer as she looked back at him, and if anything she looked sadder than she had before. She was still lost.

He closed his eyes, trying to put his thoughts into words. He just wasn't good at this kind of thing. Finally he laid his forehead against hers, willing the understanding into her. "It's a rule," he told her. "There are a lot of rules when you deal with time-travel, but this is one of the most important. When you travel through time, it's not the boss of you." He didn't know how to explain it any better. "Time isn't linear, coming and going. Time is... circular, sort of." He thought a moment more. "Wibbly-wobbly," he added.

She shook her head, still not getting his point.

He took a deep breath, moved his glance to her mouth, and did what he'd been wanting to do since she had kissed him earlier that night. He'd been off guard, but he really did know how to do this. He kissed her. This time, he was the one in control of it, the one who expected it.

And she was the one who flailed. But she only did so for a moment. His lips were on hers only a few seconds before she reciprocated, albeit not so energetically as she had earlier in the evening. Her expectations were altered, he realized. He found that he both liked and didn't like it. He enjoyed having the upper hand, having her off-balance. But he did not enjoy the tentativeness or the uncertainty.

He ended the kiss gently, keeping his hands on her face. "You gave me my first kiss earlier tonight," he told her. "But it wasn't our last. As long as we live, we can make our own choices. Either of us can reach across time. Right this minute, nothing is ending." He gave her another short kiss, very gentle. "I hate endings," he said firmly.

River just looked at him, and for a few moments her heart was in her eyes. "So you came back just because I was upset?"

"There are worse reasons," he offered, pulling back to give her a smile. "Besides, I dropped off Amy and Rory, and I hate traveling alone. Are you quite certain I can't talk you into a quick trip? Just to Palmora and back again? I promise I'll have you back before you know it."

She shook her head. "You're incorrigible."

"Thank you." He ran a thumb across her cheek just one more time before lowering his hands and standing up.

She smiled at him. "How quick a trip?"

"Dinner and a quick show," he offered. "I have the camera on a ten-minute loop, and we'll be back before it's done."

She gave him a look as though she was seriously considering a refusal, and then she grinned. "Palmora has the most amazing wine," she told him. "One of the fruits is very similar to a cherry, and the wine is the deepest red."

"Kira-fruit wine," he agreed. "Never liked it."

"Just as well," she said. "Maybe I don't like to share."

He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, leading her towards the TARDIS. He came to an abrupt halt when he didn't see her. "Damn."

River laughed, deep and throaty. "You brought her in all stealthy," she said with some surprise. "I'm very impressed."

"Yes, well... now I have to find her," he said in disgust.

She laughed again and reached for his hand. "She resonates," River told him as she held out her other hand. "Feel."

He lifted his hand and reached out... concentrated. Nothing. He shook his head.

"Close your eyes," she told him. "She's there."

He followed her instructions, reached out, and there she was. He could feel the faint thrum in his fingertips and he moved towards it slowly. The closer he got, the more he could feel it. By the time he touched the door, he could almost see her in his mind. "I hadn't noticed," he said in surprise. "I feel it on the inside, but I never tried from out here."

"She reaches for you," River told him.

"Yes." He opened the door and led her inside, moving over to the console. Then he stopped and turned to face her. "Spoilers aside, how did you get so good at... understanding her?"

She cocked her head to the side, taking her time to answer. "Mostly, she taught me," she finally said. "We just... get along. So much of it I really can't tell you – not yet – but I will say that she... speaks to me. Not in words, of course, but almost like..." Her voice trailed off, sounding frustrated.

"Almost like thought?" he asked. "Only it isn't what you're thinking at all. It's like an outside thought, answering what you're thinking. Sometimes, answering what you're saying. Like the answer's just... there."

She nodded her head. "She's always... spoken to me."

He looked at her a long time, and then he stepped away from the console. "Palmora," he told her. "Late twenty-third century has the best wine, or so I'm told. It all tastes like rotton fruit to me."

River grinned and stepped forward. She flipped switches, smoothly threw a lever, and then pulled down a hanging control. Swiftly she rounded the console, making adjustments as she went, easing their flight and fine-tuning her destination. She concentrated, but she didn't seem to work very hard at it. She lacked his flair for the dramatic, her movements fluid and efficient rather than twirling and playful, but she got the job done very well.

He was impressed, although he would never tell her that. He had watched her fly the TARDIS before – had sent her to do so when dealing with the Pandorica – but she had always seemed to be showing off. This night, she was merely demonstrating competence. She did it very well. And she was right about the TARDIS. The Old Girl liked her. She responded to River even more easily than she did to him, and he knew that the ancient time transport was sentient in her own way. Time Lord technology at its best, he thought. Flown by a human. That was what he simply didn't understand.

They left the TARDIS hand in hand, something else he was oddly comfortable with. For the longest time he had been uncomfortable with physical displays of affection, but his last few centuries had mellowed him. He supposed that it had truly started with Rose. She had definitely been a physical person. Still, he had been the one to take her hand, not the reverse. So perhaps it had something to do with his ninth regeneration, rather than the nature of his companions. Martha had been a hand-holder as well, though Donna had not. Amy held his hand, but there it was different. There had always been a certain trust in holding Amy's hand, as though little Amelia Pond was once again putting her life in his hands.

And now there was River. She tended to reach for his hand, even when they weren't walking. And she didn't just hold it, but threaded her fingers through his. With River it always seemed more... intimate. Even just walking, out here in public, was different with River.

Was this all a part of their odd little loop? Knowing who she became – what she did for him – had to have colored his perceptions of her. Knowing that she was his wife – would be – that she knew his name, and every detail about him... was that what was leading him to want to be near her? Was this all just some misaligned temporal displacement, its own self-perpetuating, self-fulfilling prophesy? And the last question... did it matter? He felt about River the way he felt about no other. Did it matter where that began?

In a way, it was rather odd. She had developed feelings for him because of the feelings he had for her. He developed his feelings for her because of the feelings she had for him. It gave a whole new meaning to timey-wimey. Yet as the strolled through the vendors at one of the largest wine festivals in the universe, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He wasn't a wine drinker, although he did enjoy the cheeses. River took great joy in sampling each wine, and she was fairly accomplished at the little routine. She swirled, she sniffed, and she sipped. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the flavor. She sipped the wine as she did most things, with her entire being. He might not like the wine, but he found that he loved watching her.

"Oh, you were absolutely right," she told him as they wandered the Central Palmoran Festival of 2852. "This was exactly what I needed to relax. I haven't been to one of these in ages."

He grinned. She didn't seem all that out of practice. Popping another piece of cheese in his mouth, he told her, "Still tastes like rotten fruit."

"Well, if you want to be technical," she admitted. "But there's so much more. There is the bouquet, and the texture, the sweetness and the subtle tang. Flavor after flavor adding upon one another until they create an entirely new whole."

Her face was lit up with the explanation, as though she were lecturing at University on her favorite subject. He simply could not bring himself to mind. Looking at the expression on her face, the peace and contentment which replaced the anguished tears she had begun her night with, he had to be grateful. All this over a kiss, he mused. No, it hadn't been over a kiss at all. It had been about an ending that she was not ready for.

As they walked past a few trees that were placed between the vendors, where few people were congregated, he tugged with the hand she had held on and off all evening. She turned to him and followed him between the trees, and it took him little persuasion to back her up against one of them. For a moment, he just looked at her, and then he lowered his lips.

She certainly tasted like the wine, he decided. But it was a long way from rotten fruit. Her own subtle flavor overwhelmed the wine, giving him a brief flash of perfection. For the first time, he stopped thinking about what he was doing and who he was doing it with – what the implications might be and whether or not he was interfering with his own time line – and he just enjoyed the sensations of his mouth on hers.

Her lips were firm, her mouth gentle and so very familiar. Whatever the reason, kissing River Song was exactly right for him. And he had to admit to himself that if he knew beyond a doubt that this was the last time he would have this pleasure, he would be fairly depressed himself. He didn't know what their future held – not exactly – but he had to hope that there would be much more of this in it. He didn't like endings, and he most certainly didn't want this to end. He wanted it to go on forever.

Unfortunately, River had to breathe at some point. After a long time – he had no clue how long, and that was saying something for a man with perfect temporal awareness – she eased her lips from his and settled them against his throat. Her breathing was a little hard, and her hands were clutched on his jacket. His own hands had settled at her waist and pulled her to him, although he didn't remember doing it.

"That was..." he began, but he had no idea how to finish.

"Yes, it was," she agreed, and he could feel the smile against his neck. "And as much as I might like it to be more, I know you're just not there yet."

He gave a gentle laugh. "It wouldn't take much," he muttered.

"No," she told him. "But if you wouldn't mind... just one thing."

He looked down at her, into deadly serious eyes. "What thing?" he asked.

She looked at him a moment more, then released his lapels. Her arms slid around him, grasping tightly, and pulling him to her. Her head nestled perfectly into the curve between his neck and shoulder. "Just for a moment," she said softly. "Just a moment."

For a few seconds, his hands stayed gently on her waist. Then, slowly, although very naturally, they moved around her body and he held her. The released sigh she gave told him that he had done exactly the right thing. So they stood there, beneath the trees, amidst a festival, on a planet far in the future, for a very long time.


	10. Chapter 9 - Waffles in Belgium

_Waffles in Belgium_ – Chapter 9

She had become his solace; it was as simple as that. As he landed the TARDIS just outside her cell at Stormcage, he realized that he came here for the peace she offered. When he was with her, he didn't have to worry about being in charge, being in control. She was controlled enough for the both of them, and she did so with wild abandon. When the emergency was over, or when the emotions were purely too much, he could come to her. Her love was constant, simple, and unrelenting. Some days he wondered if she knew him at all, even as she knew more about him than any other living being. He wished he knew her better, but some days it was enough to know that she knew him that well. This was one of those days. How had he come to rely on someone he didn't know?

He trusted a human with his hearts. His mind puzzled at that. So many times he had left behind companions who were too close to him. When he cared enough, he had to let them go. One of the hardest had been Sarah Jane, so many years ago. She had become as much of his world as the TARDIS herself, and she was infinitely more fragile. He had left her so that she would be safe, afraid of what would happen to her on Galifrey. He had left her so that he wouldn't hurt her. He had left her, because losing her by choice was so much easier than losing her without a choice.

He had given up Rose as well. It had been willing, and his mind had been set to it. He had planned for her to be with her mother in a safe dimension, although he knew she would be lost to him. He had been ready, even when she had not been. It had been losing her moments later, when he knew it had not been their choice, which had broken his spirit for a time. Saying goodbye to her had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. Still, he had learned to live without her, even enjoying the companionship of Martha and then Donna. Giving Rose up a second time had been easier, because he had known she would be happy. He had left a part of himself with her, however small his consolation.

Now Amy… that had been different. Although his Amy was safe, he had left behind an Amy that was just as real. He had done it to prevent a paradox. He had done it because there had been no choice. He had done it... and he had hated himself for it. It shouldn't matter; she had never existed. Except that she had. He had seen her, had heard her, and yes... he had left her.

And River would understand. She had always understood what he didn't know himself. From the first time she had seen him, she had been a part of him. He had known, even in the Library, that she would someday be everything to him. He had seen it in her spirit, and in her unshakable faith. He had seen it in her strength of will. A part of him had been longing for her since that day. The more he got to know her, the more he recognized why she must be his.

Now he watched her, and realized she must be exhausted. She was curled onto the cot at the back corner of her cell, sound asleep. She seemed so still, in a way that she so rarely was. She seemed… vulnerable. It wasn't an adjective he normally associated with her. He pulled out the sonic, and willed the lock to release. Then he eased the door open – not even a squeak to betray him – and stepped through. Up close, River looked almost like a child. She was on her side, one hand beneath her face and the other curled into a fist that rested beneath her chin. Her face was relaxed, her curls tumbling every direction. Yes, she was exhausted.

Most nights, he picked her up and whisked her away. He did it for her – to get her out of the prison, where she didn't belong to be – but he also did it for himself. He required little rest, and often went days without sleep. He forgot, had forgotten, that she could not do the same. She was human, and she needed rest. How long had it been since she had the opportunity?

He didn't know how long he stood there, just watching her. Gradually, her features tensed, he saw little twitches here and there, and then finally her eyes opened. She stared right at him.

"Hello, Sweetie," she said softly, her voice still gravelly from sleep.

"Good morning, Dear," he replied with a soft smile.

She watched him a moment more before asking, "How long have you been here?"

"No idea," he admitted.

She smiled at that, and then eased her legs over the side of the bed so that she could sit up. "Where are we going tonight?" she asked him.

"This morning," he corrected, turning his arm over and glancing at his watch.

"This morning, then," she agreed.

"What are you in the mood for?" he asked.

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then she smiled. "Waffles," she told him. "Maybe, Belgian Waffles?"

"Belgium it is," he told her. "What time is bed check?"

"Usually six," she replied.

"Good to know," he told her as he led the way to the TARDIS.

They flew her together in relative silence and near-perfect harmony. He had to admit, at least to himself, that she had a flair for it. River didn't waste motions or flail about as he often did. She was economical with her movements, and she always seemed to know which button was where.

As they landed her just outside a Brussels, he finally let the question slip from him. "I have to ask," he told her. "I know I didn't teach you everything you know about the TARDIS. Is this innate skill, or is there something in your past that is still in my future? I don't need specifics, but I'm dying to know."

She grinned at him, mischievous and sweet at the same time. "You taught me a lot," River said. "But she's taught me more. From the first time, she just… speaks to me. I can't explain it."

"I suppose you get along well enough," he thought aloud.

"We certainly seem to have an accord," she admitted.

"No, I mean you're... tuned to her. I've never seen anything like it. Even when I watched other Time Lords." He shook his head, unable to articulate his confusion.

"I think her instruction has a lot to do with it," she said as she flipped the last few toggles and turned her back to the console. "And some of it is just feel. If you'd slow down and pay attention, instead of fluttering about, you'd be able to fly smoothly as well."

"I do not flutter," he grumbled.

"You most certainly do," she corrected. "You're here, you're there, and I know you don't need to be all over the place. You could fly more smoothly if you paid better attention."

"I can attend," he told her, affronted.

"Show me," she said with a grin.

"Show you what?" he asked.

"Show me... some attention." She took a step towards him, placed her arms loosely around his neck, and puckered.

He fidgeted, moved his head back, gave her a mock glare, and then just smiled. As he placed his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms around her back, he closed his eyes. "I needed this," he said softly. "I just needed..." His voice trailed off. He couldn't say it.

"Me?" she asked, shifting slightly so that her cheek rubbed against his.

"Yes," he admitted. "You. This. Just... this."

She laid her head on his shoulder and tightened her arms. "You always know where to find me," she quipped.

"I'm sorry for that," he admitted, bringing her body closer to his as he rubbed her back. Hugs were nice. He liked hugs. But with River, holding her just felt right; it always had, even before he'd understood had the chance to get to know her.

"I'm not," she assured him. "It keeps me out of trouble, and I'm not wasting away. There are reasons – good reasons – for my going to prison, so it's not much of a sacrifice."

He didn't want to argue with her. "Well, at least we can get breakfast," he said with forced cheer. "When did you decide to land us?"

"Nineteen fifty-eight," she said. "They may not even have waffles yet. They aren't formally introduced until the expo, but I wanted to avoid that fuss. We're looking for Maurice Vermersch."

"Thank you for the history lesson," he told her, tongue in cheek. He loosened his hold on her and trailed his hands down her arms, taking her hands in his.

"Doctorate in Archeology, thank you."

"Let's find you breakfast," he suggested, and led her out the door.

They did find waffles, although they lacked the strawberries and sugar that they would later be famous with. He sat with her outside a small cafe and watched her pick apart the waffle with her fingers.

"This is amazing," she said, tucking a little more of the waffle into her mouth. "It's no wonder they took the expo by storm."

"Let's get a couple more to go," he suggested. "We'll walk."

She agreed, and they walked. Holding hands once they finished eating, they passed through the streets of Brussels. He bought her flowers from a street vendor, and she laughed as she buried her face in them. He watched her – just watched her – and his mood lifted. She had an energy that he felt he was losing. Some days he was just so tired. Today had been one of those days.

"You seem sad," she said.

"No," he said, not entirely truthfully. "Not exactly. I was just thinking about... everything. It's been odd traveling with a couple. I haven't really done that before. I feel like I need to give them some time alone."

"Are you embarrassed?" she asked, bumping her hip against his.

"Not... exactly."

"You say that a lot."

"Well, you ask a lot," he replied, bumping up against her.

She gave a laugh that was deep and... sexy. Way too sexy. He found her far too appealing some of the time. He teased that he loved a bad girl, but the truth was that he just didn't know her. He knew she was a time traveler, knew she was far too familiar with him, and knew – or at least believed – that at some nameless date in the future she would be his wife.

Marriage was something he had given up centuries before, after the war had taken his wife and children. Time had stolen their faces during the daylight hours, but he saw them when he slept. He heard them crying out for him, begging him to save them, even as he knew that they had died before they could possibly cry out.

He had been fighting in the war, trying desperately to keep the Dalek threat from reaching Galifrey. When he had returned the Daleks had already begun the bombings, and his dwelling had been destroyed, along with his entire village. There had been nothing left... not even smoldering remains. The only solace had come from knowing that the bombardment had been quick and total; they had never felt it coming. One moment they had been carrying on life as though it were a normal day, and the next moment they had been vaporized. Many of the larger cities had not been so fortunate. He had seen the running and the screaming, children chased by lasers, adults pleading for their lives. It was only his imagination that had placed this carnage at his own home, but his dreams made it so much worse.

"You're quiet," River said. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh... life, the universe, and everything," he improvised.

"I can't see you hitchhiking your way through the galaxy," she said with a grin.

"No, but I certainly stole a time machine."

"You stole it?" she asked, her voice aghast. "The good Doctor?"

"I always planned to take it back," he explained. "By the time I was ready, there was no place to take it back to."

"That's why you're sad," she said softly. "You're thinking about Galifrey."

"How do you know I'm not thinking about the origin of Hopscotch? Fascinating game, Hopscotch. Good exercise, good fun, teaches counting skills to the young..."

"Some say it goes back to Ancient Rome," River told him with a matter-of-fact lecturing tone. Every once in a while the Archaeologist slipped out. "There aren't any literary references to it until seventeenth-century England, but it's safe to assume it was around a couple of hundred years before that. No firm evidence, of course, but it's a logical assertion. As for how I know you weren't thinking about Hopscotch, I happen to know you better than that. Different look in your eyes, entirely. Now, why are you sad?"

"I'm not sad. I'm... contemplative."

"You're sad," she corrected. "And you can either continue arguing, or you can talk to me and get some of it out of your head. What's happened?"

He paused a moment before giving in. He had known all along that he would; it was why he was here. "River, have you ever had to do something – lie to someone – when you knew you were going to hurt them? You have to do it; it's the only way to keep everyone alive. But you have to live with it afterward."

"Oh, yes," she agreed. "Rule one: The Doctor lies. I have to do it, too. It's part of who we are. Traveling time gives us certain knowledge that we can't share. We have to lie, whether by omission or commission. It's part of the job description."

"Why is it sometimes... harder."

"Who did you lie to?" she asked, her voice softer and more gentle.

"Rory. Amy, too, come to that. It was a... situation. I just never expected it to..."

"You didn't expect the guilt?" she asked.

"I don't feel guilt," he told her, believing it true. "Not about something this... small. I feel guilt about wars I couldn't stop, lives I led in the wrong direction, and people I couldn't save. I feel guilt about the big things, the things I could have changed. I don't feel guilt about necessary lives."

"So, what are you feeling, if it's not guilt?"

He thought about that a moment, and realized she was right. "Why am I feeling guilt?" he asked her. "We fixed the situation. It never even occurred. There's nothing to feel guilty about."

"And yet..."

He gave a long sigh. "They trust me," he said, his voice small. "They trust me to keep them safe, and to bring them home. I have to do that. It's my responsibility. I can't always manage all the smaller details along the way."

"Oh, Sweetie," she said, her smile sad. "Of course they trust you. They love you. Granted, Rory may never say it in so many words, but you have been a part of their lives since childhood. You rescued Amy from a world of inaccuracies, and you brought her into a lifetime of adventure. You showed her how special she really is, and you allowed her to share that with her best friend. You accepted her unconditionally. Of course they trust you. What else would they do?"

"Others have trusted me, River. It never ends well."

"I trust you," she told him solemnly. "With my life... with everything."

"I've always said you were mad," he muttered.

They walked in silence for a long while. As they circled around, returning to the TARDIS, he turned to face her and took her hands. "Why do you trust me?" he asked.

"Spoilers," was her reply.

He shook his head. "Nothing specific. Why do you trust me? Why do you..."

"Love you?" she asked, meeting his eyes with hers.

He nodded, but he didn't speak.

She reached up and kissed him very, very gently on the lips. "Because there is so much love in you," she told him. "It's guarded, hidden, and carefully controlled. You love so much, so deeply, that it hurts you. You would give your life for Amy, or Rory... you would give anything just to protect them from hurt. They know this... they trust it. They love you just as much as you love them."

"And you?" he asked. "Why do you trust me?"

Her smile was at once knowing and sad. She put her hands over his hearts, perfectly placed, and her eyes filled with tears. "Some things cannot be put into words," she told him. "Some things simply are."


End file.
